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«. 


THIRD HAND HIGH 


A NOVEL 


W. N. MURDOCK 





BOSTON ^ 

LEE AND SHEPARD PUBLISHERS 


lO MILK STREET 


1893 



Copyright, 1893, by Lee and Shepard 


All Rights Reserved. 


Third Hand High 



TO 

MY WIFE, 

WHO IS LARGELY RESPONSIBLE FOR THE 
APPEARANCE OF THIS STORY, 

IT IS 

AFFECTIONATELY DEDICATED. 


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PREFACE 


A MAN who can perceive no higher purpose in 
Nature than the evolution of Moral Intelligence, 
may well wonder why his life presents so many 
experiences irrelevant to any apparent needs or 
results in his own character and aims. 

Should the public approve the judgment of the 
publisher of this story, the enigma in the author’s 
case may perhaps be solved. 


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CONTENTS 


Chapter Page 

I. Between Love and Duty 7 

II. The Man with the White Horse .... 13 

III. Sam’s Visitor 22 

IV. Mrs. Spooner comes to a Decision ... 30 

V. Sam plays a Trump 37 

VI. A Morning Call and a Confidence ... 45 

VII. Confession is Good for the Soul .... 52 

VIII. And She might have been a Schoolma’am . 61 

IX. Ambrosia for Breakfast 72 

X. The Winds were Fair 80 

XI. Dr. Sebastian Brown 87 

- XII. Sam goes to see a Tailor 94 

XIII. Sadie tells Aunt Cline 104 

XIV. The Deacon makes a Trade 113 

XV. M’rier gets Ready to move 120 

XVI. Maclean of the Windermere 128 

XVII. A Friend of the Family 136 

XVIII. Secondhand — according to Hoyle — L ow 147 

XIX. At the Profile 153 

XX. And Satan came also 162 

XXL Sam commits Assault 172 

5 


6 


CONTENTS 


Chapter Page 

XXII. Fire and Water i8o 

XXIII. No Funds i88 

XXIV. Alicia’s Lover 194 

XXV. Trouble 202 

XXVI. Wanted — My Husband 21 1 

XXVII. The Doctor begins a Story 223 

XXVIII. The Doctor continues his Story .... 231 

XXXIX. King, Queen, and Ace 240 

XXX. The Doctor revokes . . 246 


THIRD HAND HIGH 


CHAPTER I 

BETWEEN LOVE AND DUTY 

Sam Hawkins leaned over the stick of timber 
which guarded the wing-wall of Birchstock Bridge, 
and let the cool mountain air blow through his 
whiskers. He was rather tall, slim-built, with a 
stoop in his shoulders, and a bald spot which the 
tawny hair surrounding it could not shield from 
the smile of the evening sunlight. Sam was past 
the age when the poetry of nature is supposed to 
account for revery, and a neighbor would have 
presumed that he was engaged in finding a practi- 
cal mean between the needs of stonework or super- 
structure and the chronic disinclination of the 
townsfolk to pay taxes. Sam had just been re- 
elected selectman for a fourth or fifth term, and 
chairman of the Board. 


7 


8 


THIRD HAND HIGH 


As a matter of fact, Sam was not considering 
the needs of the bridge, nor — what would per- 
haps have been more to his interest — the stony 
acres just beyond, which had descended to him 
through several generations of more or less thrifty 
ancestors. He was gazing up-stream, where a suf- 
ficiently pretty prospect invited appreciation, — 
the low water gurgling and sparkling in a hundred 
little cascades among the bare ledges ; the russet- 
green meadow spreading away to the left ; the 
wooded bank on the right, jutting out or receding 
as the spring floods of many generations had dealt 
with it ; the hills on either side softening their 
rugged outlines as they reached away to the purple- 
gold mountains of the upper valley. Moreover, 
candor requires the admission that quite within 
Sam’s view, on a little promontory belonging to 
his own domain, a young woman was standing, her 
white dress and straw hat clearly outlined against 
the dark shadows of the bank. It is, therefore, at 
least possible that Sam’s attitude means sentiment ; 
and this idea is abundantly supported when, with 
a long sigh, and eyes set to a dogged resolution, 
he turns toward the bridge, muttering, “ It ain’t 
one bit of use dreaming — here I am, and here I’ve 
got to stay. The sooner I settle it with the widow 
the better.” And if he said anything more the 
rumble of the river and the thumping of his thick 


BETWEEN LOVE AND DUTY 


9 


boots on the bridge drowned it. He was manfully 
striding on to the inevitable. 

Just as he touched the further shore he indulged 
a final glance. Probably she had heard his foot- 
steps on the sonorous structure ; for she was 
looking up. She supplemented the look with a 
beckoning gesture. He turned his head instantly, 
as if determined not to see. But a little farther on 
a path branched from the road to the left, and, hesi- 
tating there, he drifted into it. At the end of 
perhaps two minutes he was in the immediate 
presence of the young lady. 

For such she might now claim to be, distance 
and probability eliminated. First, because her 
face, though garnished with sunburn and a nose 
decidedly retrotiss^y possessed a mouth with haughty 
curves, and eyes of conscious insolence. Secondly, 
because her costume (Sam presumed it to be a kind 
of cheese-cloth — crepe dii chines of course) pos- 
sessed an intricate and difficult ornamentation, and 
was marvellously fitted to display lines of grace 
in the figure. As he approached, she picked up a 
slender rod from the grass at her feet and held the 
end toward him. 

** I was waiting for him to die, so I could get out 
my hook. He has swallowed it. But you can get 
it for me.” 

Miss Sadie ! It’s a young salmon ! I’m afraid 
this won’t do ! ” 


lO 


THIRD HAND HIGH 


The fish was yet quite lively ; but a moment’s 
inspection showed that the hook could not be 
removed without seriously injuring it. He there- 
fore inserted his strong thumb and forefinger 
under its gills and put it out of misery. His 
companion watched him with a little shiver of 
disgust. 

“ It’s against the law,” he continued, ** and of 
course as a town officer I am required to report 
anybody who takes salmon from the river.” 

I don’t believe you will report anybody though,” 
she retorted. “ It certainly wasn’t fault. The 
fish swallowed my hook, and nearly ran away with 
the line and pole. See how wet I got my foot plun- 
ging in after it ! ” 

The sight hereupon offered must have been 
moving, for Sam eyed it in silence until withdrawn. 
Afterward he pondered on the combination of 
gold-tinted slippers and ink-black hosiery as some- 
thing awfully pathetic. The view was, however, 
brief. 

I suppose we can’t help it now,” he said. “ I 
don’t think you will find any other fish that will bite 
in the river. And you bait with a fly ! I hope you 
won’t do it again ; for the law is very strict, and 
the authorities are determined to protect the fish. 
They have been at great expense and trouble to 
stock the streams.” 


BETWEEN LOVE AND DUTY 


II 


And I must go home with only one! ” she ex- 
claimed indignantly. “ How mean 1 ” 

“ Without even one. My duty compels me to 
return it to the river.” 

With that, a little glittering curve in the air, a 
splash in the swiftest part of the current, and the 
•contraband object went out of sight. 

You see somebody might see you have it, or 
know of its being carried into the parsonage, and 
make trouble. It is best out of the way.” 

Sadie did not look at him, or seem to hear. She 
slowly wound her reel, and then without a word 
moved away up the path. Sam shrugged his shoul- 
ders, sighed again, and then walked on in the op- 
posite direction. It was rather a roundabout path, 
but it led to his house. At a point a little beyond 
the place where the interview occurred he paused 
again. The road on the other side was visible for a 
few rods, and he saw a white horse and light wagon 
coming along it, driven by a man who wore a linen 
duster and a tall hat. It was the season for city 
visitors, and the sight was not remarkable. But 
Sam noted it with an interest that may have 
been a foreshadowing of impending events. The 
team reached the bridge, and should in a moment 
have passed from view. But it stopped. Then 
the white drapery of Sadie came on the scene. 
The stranger was making inquiries, He was ob 


12 


THIRD HAND HIGH 


served to lift his hat, as if in recognition of the 
social rank of the young lady, — a fact Sam noted, 
— and they separated. When the white drapery 
had vanished Sam went on toward home. But the 
resoluteness of his manner was gone. He no 
longer moved like a man with a purpose. 


THE MAN WITH THE WHITE HORSE 


13 


CHAPTER II 

THE MAN WITH THE WHITE HORSE 

The man who drove the white horse had come 

from S , the county-seat, and a thriving railroad 

town at the foot of the valley. It was a drive of 
some seventeen miles ; but the stage-road was ele- 
gantly kept, and finger-posts marked the crossings 
and noted the mileage from place to place. One 
was only liable to the error of driving through the 
town he sought before discovering it ; and this 
consideration may have influenced the stranger to 
haul up and inquire his way every mile or two, if 
so often he happened to meet people on the way, 
or to find them conveniently in sight as he passed 
their dwellings. The occurrence of this latter op- 
portunity eventually proved fortunate ; for he had 
entered Birchstock, and driven a quarter of a mile 
beyond the bridge-road to the parsonage, when he 
noted a woman hoeing weeds in a garden. 

** Madam,” he asked, reining up as usual, ** can 
you tell me whether I am in or near the main set- 
tlement of the town of Birchstock f ” 


14 


THIRD HAND HIGH 


The woman paused from her occupation, and threw 
back her bonnet to get a view of the questioner. 
“The main settlement is at North Birchstock, 
three miles farther on. This is the Centre. We 
haven’t much of a village here — only the store, 
post-office, church, and parsonage.” 

“ Ah ! and which might this be ? ” indicating 
the low-roofed house and barn adjacent. 

“The parsonage,” she replied, with just enough 
of a smile to assure him the humor of his question 
was appreciated. 

“ Hm ! Rather odd that such institutions should 
be so far from the village, isn’t it ” 

“ I suppose when they were put here the village 
hadn’t been thought of.” 

“ Oh, I see ! The village has its own post- 
office .? ” 

“Yes, sir.” 

“Yes — Uncle Sam is liberal. Stores up there, 
too ? ” 

“Yes, sir. And a Methodist church. Ours is 
Baptist.” 

“ Baptists in the village come down here on Sun- 
days .? ” 

“Well — usually. In the country people get 
used to driving to church, and don’t mind it — at 
least in good weather.” 

“And it’s expensive moving church buildings 


THE MAN WITH THE WHITE HORSE 1 5 

when the land they’re on can’t be sold for over a 
cent a foot. I suppose the graveyard would be 
lonesome if the meeting-house went away. Par- 
don me, madam, are you the lady of the parson- 
age ” 

She answered affirmatively. 

‘‘I assumed so much, from your occupation.” 
He hesitated, but this time he could not perceive 
that she noted anything ambiguous in his remark. 

You will pardon me, I trust, — has the present 
incumbent, the Baptist pastor, been long settled 
here .? ” 

About six years, sir.” 

“ Ah, indeed ! He must be a gentleman of 
talent. Long pastorates in country churches are 
not the rule. By the way, you should be just the 
person to give me information. I am looking for 
a man said to live hereabouts, — Ephraim Haw- 
kins.” 

“ You are a long way out of your road, sir,” she 
answered gravely. “ He has not lived here for 
some ten months.” 

“ You don’t say ! Can you tell me where he 
does live ? ” 

can’t, sir.” 

Is there anybody in the neighborhood who 
can .? ” 

I doubt it very much, sir. My husband, who 


i6 


THIRD HAND HIGH 


preached his funeral sermon, could only express a 
hope.” 

Evidently the information was so annoying that 
the stranger forgot to notice the turn of tables 
effected upon him. 

“ You don’t mean it ! Ephraim Hawkins dead ? 
Did he leave any family ? ” 

One son, Samuel, who lives just across the 
river.” 

‘‘ Ah ! No other relatives ” 

“None at all, except a brother James, who may 
or not now be living. He used to live in New 
York.” 

James ? ” The stranger struck his knee a re- 
sounding slap. “That settles it! Is Samuel mar- 
ried .? ” 

“Not that anybody knows of. Mr. Hawkins 
takes after his father’s family, I suppose,” she 
added hastily, as if her first words were an indis- 
cretion, “and won’t marry under forty.” 

“ Hm I indeed I Farming, is he ” 

“ He keeps the farm going. But he makes his 
money mostly at teaming and surveying. He has 
been selectman for some years. Did you mean 
to see him, sir } ” 

“That is my object, since Ephraim is dead. 
Across the river, you say } How shall I get 
there } ” 


THE MAN WITH THE WHITE HORSE 1/ 

Go right back as you came. Take the road to 
the left, cross the bridge, and it’s the first house.” 

Thank you, thank you ! By the way, you say 
Mr. Hawkins’s mother — Ephraim’s wife — is dead 
also 

“ She died before we moved here — about a year. 
You can’t be a relative ? ” 

“ No ; no, indeed ! But I don’t mind telling you, 
in return for your kind and valuable information, 
that I am the bearer of verj/ important news to 
Mr. Hawkins.” 

And by this time, having turned his horse, he 
nodded pleasantly and drove away. 

Half an hour later the young lady with the 
white dress, the wet foot, and the fish-pole came 
sauntering up the road. She had now distin- 
guished herself additionally with a huge bouquet of 
ferns and “ snowball ” blossoms. The minister’s 
wife observed her, and, as she came nearer, suf- 
fered the characteristic occupation to pause again, 
to ask, — 

** Has Arthur’s pole and line come off whole this 
time ? ” 

“ By the skin of the teeth, as it were ; and the 
same might be said of myself. Mamma ! do you 
know that it is against the law to fish in the 
river } ” 

Seems to me I did hear papa tell Arthur 


i8 


THIRD HAND HIGH 


he mustn’t catch the salmon. I suppose they are 
as likely to bite as anything. Have yo7i caught 
any } ” 

“ Y-yes, one ; but Sam Hawkins threw it back 
into the river.” 

“ Sadie ! Why will you speak of people in that 
rude way 1 ” 

‘‘I mean Mr. Hawkins, mamma. Um ! He told 
me it really was his duty to arrest me — though 
he didn’t.” 

“ Probably it was. I hope you had the grace to 
apologize for your conduct. But where could you 
have been } ” 

‘‘Just above the bridge.” 

“ On his land ! I should think ! ” 

“ I suppose he caught sight of me as he drove 
his cows home,” Sadie resumed serenely. “ Any- 
how, he pounced down upon me, gave me a lecture, 
and took my fish away.” 

“ You are lucky if that ends it,” her mother an- 
swered. “ Mr. Hawkins has great consideration 
for your father, but he is very strict in matters of 
public duty.” 

Sadie laughed. 

“ Mamma, do you see this 

“You haven’t hurt it, have you.?” Mrs. Bain 
seized the plump hand, and carefully scrutinized 
its final digit, invitingly extended. 


THE MAN WITH THE WHITE HORSE 


19 


“Not at all, mamma. But do you notice how 
easily — gracefully, as it were — I wind this green 
and tender stem about it } ” 

“ And what does that nonsense signify ? ” 

“ The sad and simple truth about — Mr. Sam 
Hawkins.” 

“You conceited cat ! By the way, it might be 
worth your while to test that. Did you meet a 
gentleman on your way, driving a white horse ? ” 

“ Yes ; and directed him to Mr. Hawkins’s.” 

“ He seems to need a good deal of directing. 
Anyhow, he brings some important news to your 
flexible friend.” 

“ What, mamma ? Do you know } ” 

“ I know it’s almost time for supper. Run in 
and set the table for me, and then put on my 
apron and make tea. I want to hoe out this row 
to-night.” 

“ Mamma, why don’t you make papa do that ? 
Catch me doing such work when / have a hus- 
band ! ” 

“ I like it. Besides, my husband is too much 
your father ever to learn the difference between 
weeds and cabbages.” 

“ Don’t be sarcastic. There ! You just cut up 
a cabbage yourself ! ” 

“ A burdock, my dear. But are you going in, 
or must I.?” 


20 


THIRD HAND HIGH 


“ Instantly, mamma, as soon as you tell me what 
the fat man wanted of Mr. Hawkins.” 

Mamma hoed on in silence. 

“Just in a word. Please ! ” 

“Work first — pay after,” her mother answered 
sententiously. “ And while you are about it, tell 
papa I want some wood split. He won’t want to 
do it after tea.” 

Sadie chuckled. 

“ Only be good, mamma, and I’ll see that he 
does it at once.” 

“ You torment ! I’ll say no more than this — I 
think — only think, mind — that it means money. 
Mr. Hawkins has, or had, a rich uncle. Now go.” 

“ A rich uncle And he’s died How much 
is it ? Do you know ^ ” 

“ There ! I just knew I’d jump out of the fry- 
ing-pan into the fire ! Sadie Bain, I have said all I 
shall say until supper, and the sooner you get it 
ready the sooner you’ll hear the particulars ! Will 
you go ” 

The young lady’s conscience, or some experience 
of her mother’s moods, now induced her to turn 
reluctantly toward the house. Not that she had 
any serious interest in Sam Hawkins’s affairs. 
She was simply curious, and liked to delay doing 
things that appealed to her merely as duties. 

“ Don’t forget to speak to papa ! ” her mother 


THE MAN WITH THE WHITE HORSE 


21 


called after her as she passed the garden gate. 
Her white teeth glistened mischievously, and her 
blue eyes gave out a kind of expectant scintilla- 
tion. It is possible that she enjoyed, as much as 
her mother deprecated, the necessity of inviting 
papa to split wood. 


•rHIRD hand high 


2 '! 


CHAPTER III 
sam’s visitor 

Two chapters of this remarkable story have 
been written, and we have recorded only the most 
trivial incidents. There is an immense temptation 
to follow Miss Sadie into the small parlor, note 
how she falls foul of an old piano and rattles off a 
sonatine to distract her father’s attention from the 
book he is reading, and then pounces down on him 
with an, “ O papa ! I want to get tea, and there’s 
not a bit of wood split ! ” and so actually coaxes 
him to the woodpile ; where, with an intuition of 
his character that her mother does not possess, she 
knows he will work like a beaver until actually 
scolded to supper. She knows papa can toil if he 
only be started right, though he do7it exactly like to. 
Our business, however, is over the river, where 
the “fat” gentleman has tied his horse to the 
fence to prevent his carrying the wagon through 
the stable door, and is knocking at the front en- 
trance of a red farmhouse. 

The woman who responds is not uncomely nor 


SAM S VISITOR 


23 


old, but there is a practical directness in her glance, 
and a decision in her manner that nips his obser- 
vation in the bud. 

“ Mr. Hawkins is gone a’ter the cows, I guess. 
But he’ll come directly. Better have a chair. 
Want to see him on town business ? ” 

“ No. Are you Mrs. Hawkins } ” 

My name’s Spooner, sir. Sence my husband 
died I haven’t had no notion of marrying, though 
I /lev been asked by mor’n one. But I’m doin’ for 
Mr. Hawkins, sence he ain’t got nobody, and I 
ain’t. I’m just hired help.” 

“Ah! housekeeper — indeed I No relation at 
all .? ” 

“ None nearer than third cousin or so. Most 
people round here are kind of connected in and 
out.” 

“ In and out ! Yes ; umph ! Young people 
grew up together and intermarried. Don’t do it 
so much now. Mostly emigrate.” 

“ Mostly.” 

“ And — pardon me the question — is it consid- 
ered the thing — round here — for a lady as young 
and agreeable as yourself to do for a young man 
— ah — as housekeeper ? ” 

Mrs. Spooner stared at him with cold surprise. 
Evidently she was neither pleased with the com- 
pliment nor embarrassed by the implication. 


24 


THIRD HAND HIGH 


“ Folks round here know hinty and they know 
me. Folks that don’t had best mind their own 
business.” 

“ Certainly, certainly ! ” the stranger answered 
brightly. “ That’s good sense ! A sound reputa- 
tion will cover a multitude of — ah — situations. 
You are also, I suppose, members of the same 
church } Baptists } ” 

“ Hawkins never professed, though he’s better’n 
some that do. I’m a member, and say it. Dear 
me ! ” a new light seeming to break in upon her, 
“ maybe you’re the new minister at the village } ” 

“ No, madam,” he answered, modestly blushing 
at the compliment. “ I have never preached ; I 
only practise. I am H. Samson Bailey, of Smiles 
& Bailey, attorneys and counsellors at law. New 
York.” 

“ Oh, a lawyer ! ” There was a startled look in 
her eye, and she drew back a pace or two. “ And 
you say it ain’t town business } ” 

“ Did I ? Did I } ” the gentleman repeated anx- 
iously. ‘‘Well, that is — not exactly. I under- 
stand Mr. Hawkins is a selectman. Influential 
with the Board, of course } ” 

“ He’s a straight man, and he’s got good horse 
sense, and gets credit for it.” 

“ Good horse sense. I see, I see ! Knows oats 
from — let us say shoe-pegs. But discourse of 


sam’s visitor 


25 


angels and they arrive ! That’s he, I take it, 
letting the cows through the bars. With your 
permission I will step right out and meet him.” 

Without waiting for that incidental courtesy, 
which he seemed to take, like most things, for 
granted, the lawyer arose and stepped out. Mrs. 
Spooner watched him, through the window, walk 
up to Sam, and lay a hand familiarly upon his 
shoulder. Then she could only see Sam’s face. 
At first curiosity, then astonishment — she rubbed 
her eyes to make sure they had not deceived her — 
Sam had reeled, and he seemed about to faint. 
While she hesitated to rush out to his assistance 
the stranger turned and looked full into her eyes. 
And, saying a few words to Sam, the pair started 
slowly down the road arm in arm. This was too 
much. She sprang to the door, and almost screamed, 
‘‘ Slippers a waitin ^ Mr. Hawkins! ” 

But Sam didn’t notice. The lawyer it was who 
raised his hat and called back, — 

“ Keep it hot for half an hour, Mrs. Spooner. 
We’ll return in that time ! ” 

A million ! ” Sam was saying in a voice deep- 
ened with awe. “ That’s ten, twenty, fifty times 
more money than I should know what to do with ! 
Stocks, bonds, and city blocks ! And to think 
Uncle Jim never made a will, or left anybody to 


26 


THIRD HAND HIGH 


share it ! I say, sir, I don’t want to seem suspi- 
cious, but I don’t of course know who you are, or 
how you happen to be looking me up. I have 
heard of hoaxes!' 

“ Very proper — quite right to be on your guard, 
dear sir. The case as regards me is simple. Our 
firm collects rents for the estate. We have funds 
now on hand to your credit — say some fifty-odd 
thousand dollars. When we received notice of 
Mr. Hawkins’s demise, knowing he had no imme- 
diate family, and that a large amount of property 
was involved, we at once made our report to the 
Probate Court, and obtained the necessary author- 
ity to take charge of the deceased’s effects and 
papers until investigation could be made. We 
had a great deal of trouble, for banks and corpora- 
tions do not communicate information unsought 
concerning their depositors or security holders ; 
but a year of hard work has enabled us not only 
to recover all real and personal property belonging 
to the estate, but to discover the long alienated 
family connection and the legal heir.” 

“Yes,” said Sam slowly. “I wonder why all 
those people who had the money didn’t hold on to 
it. Can if be that the world is really honest ? ” 

“ Hold on to it ! ” repeated the lawyer seriously. 
“ My dear sir, you do not understand how hard it 
would be to conceal investments like those we had 


sam’s visitor 


27 


to deal with from the eye of the law ! But the 
facts are, sir, we now hold in trust this great prop- 
erty. All you have to do is to go on to New York 
with the proper proofs of your being the lawful 
heir of James Hawkins, deceased, and you will 
immediately obtain possession.” 

“Your bill will be pretty considerable, I sup- 
pose } ” Sam asked, still suspiciously. 

“ Our accounts have been settled by order of 
court from time to time. But, as an earnest, I 
thought it as well to bring a small amount with me, 
which I will at once pay over on your receipt. You 
might need it. I have a thousand in pocket, and 

six thousand on deposit down at S . Will you 

take this now ? ” 

He pressed into Sam’s hand a roll of new bank- 
notes, — hundreds, fifties, and twenties. Sam 
looked them over carefully, and then drew a long 
breath. They were genuine goods. 

“ You will forgive me, sir — Mr.” — 

“ Bailey, of Smiles & Bailey.” 

“ Bailey, of Smiles & Bailey, for finding such 
news hard to swallow. I believe it now. But I 
wish it could be kept from everybody for a while, 
that I’ve got a million. Could it ? ” he asked this 
eagerly. 

“ Why, we can keep it out of the papers ; and you 
don’t mind your neighbors knowing you got some- 


28 


THIRD HAND HIGH 


thing — a thousand, or say the six thousand depos- 
ited at S ? ” 

“Yes, six thousand wouldn’t matter. Some of 
them are worth that much themselves. I don’t 
want them to know I’m able to buy the whole 
valley till I’ve had time to consider.” 

“Very good. May I say now that I would en- 
joy an invitation to supper ? By the way, are we 
at liberty to speak freely on this matter in Mrs. 
Spooner’s presence } ” 

“ No ! ” answered Sam promptly. “ My affairs 
are nothing to her ! ” 

“ Indeed ! ” The lawyer stroked his chin thought- 
fully. “Now, I should say as much myself. Some 
women in Mrs. Spooner’s position would certainly 
take advantage. I thought of it at once, and so 
came outside to meet you.” 

“Advantage ? Oh, she’s curious — most women 
are ; and she’d talk.” 

“Um, of course ! that’s likely. But it would be 
a remarkably good case, in a legal sense, especially 
with a jury, if a wornan in her situation should 
claim damages from a man in j/ours /” 

“ Damages For what ? ” 

“Oh, breach of promise of marriage. I don’t 
suppose she’d think of it, of course,” he added as 
Sam’s face darkened. “ But we lawyers see so 
much of life that we are always cautious about 


sam’s visitor 


29 

supposing people won t sin when opportunity and 
temptation present themselves together.” 

Sam frowned. M’rier is a square woman. She 
likes money well enough, but she would never do 
anything disgraceful, you can bet your life.” 

Has an excellent character } So good that the 
neighbors don’t think evil of her even when she 
lives here alone with a single man } Exactly ! That^ 
my dear sir, is just what would make the case so 
strong — for a jury. Mark my words, sir, — a man 
with a million can’t be too careful ! ” 

Sam did not reply. He was indignant, but the 
lawyer’s idea confused and startled him. He was 
relieved when he did not meet Mrs. Spooner’s eyes 
immediately on entering the house. She had gone 
to the kitchen. 


30 


THIRD HAND HIGH 


CHAPTER IV 

MRS. SPOONER COMES TO A DECISION 

Mr. Bailey must have had a tolerably accurate 
knowledge of the sort of people he would meet 
in Birchstock : his bringing a roll of banknotes 
in his pocket, to say nothing of a letter of 

credit on the Bank at S , makes so much 

quite manifest. It is doubtful whether Sam 
Hawkins would have taken much stock in his 
good fortune without actually tasting it. Of 
course he would have investigated Mr. Bailey’s 
statements duly, and most cautiously. That 
would have taken time. It would, also, possibly, 
have led him into the subject by a road Mr. 
Bailey had reasons for fencing off. One thing 
is clear, he swept away all doubts by the method 
he adopted; and, becoming the unquestioned mes- 
senger of good tidings, became at once Sam’s 
confidential friend and adviser. 

After such extraordinary action, indicating at 
least his own absolute conviction that the prop- 
erty he represented was Sam’s, it was surprising 


MRS. SPOONER COMES TO A DECISION 3 1 

how much evidence of the fact he demanded. 
He required the most exact history of the family 
for three generations. Dates and circumstances 
almost forgotten had to be raked up. Fortu- 
nately the family Bible had not yet become ob- 
solete in this part of the country. And Mrs. 
Spooner, being a devout woman, had not per- 
mitted the Hawkins copy to be superseded by 

Lives of Our Presidents,” or the condensed 
(instalment-plan) cyclopaedia. It held the place 
of honor on the parlor table, and was fairly well 
preserved. This gave at once the leading facts ; 
but, besides, Mr. Bailey wished verbal and side 
testimony. So there was a matter of three days’ 
driving about, and a good deal of conversation 
with a great many people. By the time Sam was 
well proved to be himself, and James Hawkins’s 
nephew, everybody in the neighborhood knew 
that he had inherited a very nice thing. 

And people seemed glad of it. Mr. Bailey 
clearly saw that the lucky man was already a 
popular man. And the assurance seemed to 
please him. Evidence that a man who controls a 
million is liked by his fellows must always be 
interesting. At the same time, it may be sur- 
mised that had Birchstock known the real state 
of the case, it would have modified feeling con- 
siderably. That Sam should be able to marry the 


32 


THIRD HAND HIGH 


Widow Spooner, and settle down comfortably for 
life, was altogether satisfactory. That he should 
be translated into a being of superior order was 
another thing. However, as the only parties aware 
of the facts took care not to reveal them, nothing- 
interfered with the congratulations heartily ex- 
tended and modestly received. 

Modestly — for, in truth, Sam was too much 
preoccupied to be fully sensitive to his neigh- 
bors’ kind feelings. The great news had rather 
stunned him for a few hours. But the full sense 
of his changed fortune soon came, and with it 
imaginings of a future in which old friends and 
associations had very little part. All the long- 
ings and passions of his youth of disappointment 
and humiliation welled up from the depths of 
memory, and each bore a magician’s ring, to 
command the genii of power. Like Aladdin, 
he was able to build palaces. Why might he 
not also win his princess ? Ah ! why not ? 

During the three days above referred to, or, 
more correctly, the four evenings and nights, 
Mr. Bailey took up his residence at the Hawkins 
farm, and ate salt regularly with Mrs. Spooner. 
For the first twenty-four hours it is certain she 
submitted to this with rather suspicious grace. 
She did not believe in him or his mission at all. 
But she soon got wind of Sam’s roll of money, 


MRS. SPOONER COMES TO A DECISION 33 

and, of course, perceived that such evidence was 
conclusive. Then she heard the neighborhood 
gossip. All she heard and saw tending the same 
way, she finally concluded it must be true that 
Sam had inherited money. If so, then, of course, 
Mr. Bailey was to be accepted as an honest — 
lawyer. Strictly speaking, she did not like 
lawyers. But since such things had to be, and 
this one was on a very good errand, she ought to 
treat him politely. In consequence, Mr. Bailey 
found her manners much improved on the second 
evening of his stay. He seemed grateful. He 
dropped his own quizzical air, and fell into some- 
thing suggesting deferent respect. He appeared 
to enjoy her conversation, and she was surprised 
to find him, ex officio^ a most agreeable gentle- 
man. It struck her that he had divined her ex- 
pectations in regard to Sam. Or perhaps Sam 
had confided the matter. Well, as there was 
nothing to be ashamed of, and Sam was fore- 
handed, she thought it needn’t be a question any 
longer. And about the same time she noticed a 
change in Sam. He, too, became more careful 
how he spoke to her, more polite in those little 
things a woman notices so quickly. It is true, he 
did not seek to be near her, or to enjoy her con- 
versation as Mr. Bailey did. But that was easily 
understood, in view of the presence of a stranger, 


34 


THIRD HAND HIGH 


and of her position in the house. She gave him 
credit for his discretion. And, on her part, all 
acerbity of demeanor was banished, and she spared 
no pains to convince the lawyer that his client 
would have an amiable, as well as competent, help- 
meet. 

Sam did not neglect her even in the matter of 
the cows, driving them to and from pasture as 
usual — a behavior rather surprising in a million- 
aire, however little M’rier Spooner thought of 
it. Mr. Bailey, no doubt, wondered. And won- 
der, with a man of his constitution, always means 
thought, study, investigation. It is, therefore, 
possible he discovered that the way to the pas- 
ture led right by the Baptist parsonage. But this 
is only a matter of conjecture. He certainly saw 
Sam conversing with a young lady on one occasion 
and — he could hardly be mistaken — the very 
same who had so kindly directed him near the 
bridge on the day of his arrival. He, in conse- 
quence, felt bound to raise his hat a second time, 
and perhaps would have stopped, but that she 
went into the house immediately after acknowl- 
edging his bow. When he ventured to ask Sam 
a question or two about her, he did not find him 
as communicative as usual. 

Mr. Bailey had come up on Tuesday. On 
Saturday morning he departed again for New 
York, and Sani Hawkins went with. him, 


MRS. SPOONER COMES TO A DECISION 35 

The same evening there was a choir-meeting 
at the parsonage. M’rier always attended choir- 
meetings, because she was “ leader,” and great on 
“time.” They couldn’t do without her. It is not 
her going that is so consequential to this record, 
but only the manner of it. 

Yes, it is very noteworthy indeed that M’rier 
went to sing on the first Saturday evening after 
Sam’s departure, in her best gray alpaca gown, 
her hair banged and frizzed as charmingly as that 
of any young person who ever made choir-meet- 
ings or prayer-meetings a social opportunity. 

Nobody had the least doubt as to what this 
should mean. M’rier was not given to idle dis- 
play. The ordinary coquetries of women were 
foreign to her manners. Nothing but the deliber- 
ate intent to put off her widowhood was to be 
made of it. 

It was just what Birchstock had expected. And 
as M’rier was, in spite of her severe indepen- 
dence, a good neighbor, bearing her share of the 
social burdens, Birchstock was very willing to 
congratulate her, and accord its sympathy. It 
was not in order to do this in set words. But 
there are ways of hinting your understanding, 
of manifesting your good-will and approval, quite 
within the limits of propriety. And the high- 
way of propriety in Birchstcok was fairly broad. 


36 


THIRD HAND HIGH 


M’rier blushingly (for a more modest woman in 
such matters can rarely be found) accepted these 
testimonies. She held them, as she held Sam’s 
loyalty, quite a matter of course. 

“No,” she said, answering some question of 
Mrs. Gleason’s, “ I haven’t decided yet about 
partin’ with it. The deakin needn’t be in no 
hurry. T’won’t make any difference — what 
happens — about that.” 

Which only suggests that the deacon thought 
it might. And, of course, remains somewhat 
enigmatical at present. 


SAM PLAYS A TRUMP 


37 


CHAPTER V 

SAM PLAYS A TRUMP 

Usually, Sunday services at Birchstock con- 
sisted of the regular morning sermon, a Sunday- 
school from twelve to one, and a prayer and praise 
service in the evening. Occasionally, a sermon 
was announced for the latter, with a view to draw- 
ing out people who would not attend prayer-meet- 
ing, and preferred to salt their calves, get in hay, 
or perform some other special work on Sunday 
morning. Evening preaching was usually well 
attended. 

There was a surprise in store for the first 
Sunday evening preaching service occurring after 
events already noted. Sam Hawkins’s voice was 
heard in the choir. He had driven up from Con- 
cord (no trains ran through on Sunday), and, arriv- 
ing just a little late, made his way unheralded to 
his accustomed place. 

If Mrs. Spooner’s change of style had invited 
comment, Sam’s was even more striking. His 
hair had been cut, his beard shaved off, and he was 


38 


THIRD HAND HIGH 


clad in a fairly well-fitting suit of gray, over a silk 
n^glig^ shirt and black sailor-tie. His appear- 
ance was certainly much improved, and he might 
well, but for his rather over-developed hands, have 
been taken for a summer tourist. His manner 
was also openly happy and easy, with a nod and 
smile for all who stared at him ; that is, within 
the limits of the choir-loft. When people looked 
up from below he did not encourage their turning 
their backs to the pulpit. Mr. Bain, being in a 
conspicuous position, did not send a smile of rec- 
ognition over people’s heads, though he thought 
the stranger must be Sam. 

But after service there was as much hand-shak-. 
ing as if he had been the governor, or had come 
back from a sea-voyage. And Sam seemed to be 
glad he was home again. Nobody could suspect 
from his manner that Birchstock appealed to him 
precisely as a discarded cocoon might to the full- 
fledged butterfly. 

A neat team, Sam ! ” Elder Bain’s voice said, 
as he led out a graceful bay colt, harnessed to a 
brand-new Concord wagon of the lightest and 
strongest pattern. Haven’t been buying some- 
thing, have you } ” 

Guess again. Elder,” Sam chuckled. “That’s 
a close one. Looks well by moonlight, eh ? ” 

“Isn’t he a beauty ! ” Sadie says, in her admira- 


SAM PLAYS A TRUMP 


39 


tion for equine charms, quite forgetting to be cool 
about it, and putting her face up against the colt’s. 
And when reflecting suddenly that she is caressing 
Sam’s horse, she draws back, and the horse, in- 
spired by some recollection of former days, follows 
her a step or two, and smells her hand, she bursts 
out again, — 

“You darling ! You’d just like to go home with 
me, wouldn’t you ? ” 

“ Well, now, I never ! ” Sam exclaims in a tone 
of wonder. “ If that ain’t proof that the children 
are growing wiser than the generation I don’t 
know ! You see. Elder, it’s just here. I came 
into a windfall, and I thought, as I’d never done 
much for the minister, this’d be as good time as 
any to make it up. So, wantin’ to get home, and 
cornin’ across this rig in Concord, I picked ’em up 
— just killed both birds with one stone. This is 
the Elder’s turnout sure enough ; and you just hit 
it, Miss Sadie, when you guessed the colt wanted 
to go home with you an’ be put to supper an’ to 
bed in the parsonage barn. Now, Mrs. Bain, shall 
I help you in ? ” 

“ O Sam ! ” Mrs. Bain cried, “ how good of you ! ” 

“That team for me ” the minister gasped. 
“Why, bless my soul, Mr. Hawkins, you don’t 
mean that ? ” 

“ Bought it on purpose ! ” Sam repeated cheer- 


40 


THIRD HAND HIGH 


fully. “ Warranted sound and kind, and the best 
sort of a roader. Come forty miles to-day, and 
don’t show a fleck ! But she’s hungry — so in you 
go, ma’am ! Miss Sadie, may I give you a lift ? ” 
Half delighted, half ashamed, under the eyes of 
the whole congregation, who had witnessed this 
remarkable transaction, — why she did not exactly 
know, — Sadie managed to follow her mother into 
the wagon. When her father, after some more 
words about Sam’s walking home, some confused 
effort at a speech of thanks, was fairly squeezed 
in between (for, though the seat was wide, it was 
not as yet provided with a stool), she managed an 
impulsive thrust of her soft fingers into Sam’s, 
while she whispered mischievously, — 

“That settles the salmon account; I shall call 
him Salmanzar, after you ! ” 

“ Thank you ! ” Sam stammered, feeling as if a 
bottle of rose-water had exploded in the centre of 
his body, and was coming out at every pore. “ But 
keep the rod and the flies off her, and she won’t 
mind the name a mite ! ” 

It was some time after creating this new sensa- 
tion before he found himself on the farther side 
of the bridge, escorting Mrs. Spooner to the old 
home. He had attempted at first some conversa- 
tion ; but she had seemed rather quiet, and he 
really wished her miles away from himself and the 


SAM PLAYS A TRUMP 


41 


glorious, sympathetic moonlight. As they neared 
the house, however, her voice startled him from a 
profound revery. 

*‘That was an uncommon gift o’ yourn, Mr. 
Hawkins, to the minister to-night. Cost nigh on 
two hundred dollars, didn’t it .? ” 

“Two-twenty-five ! ” he answered. 

“ Humph ! An’ you’ll drive the old team your- 
self } ” There was suppressed contempt in the 
tone, but he did not note it. 

“ The old team } Well, I guess if I want any- 
thing better it’s easy enough to get it.” 

“ Easy enough ? ” she repeated. “ So it is, while 
the ready money lasts! But you’ll want some- 
thing else besides horses and wagons. You’ve a 
chance now ; such a chance don’t come but onct 
in a lifetime to most folks. You can’t afford to 
throw it away in extravagance.” 

“ What do j/ou care ? ” Sam asked with a laugh. 
“ You’re comfortable I ” 

She understood this to be a challenge. Well, 
her mind was made up, and if Sam was just mak- 
ing ducks and drakes of his money because he was 
desperate over her refusal to have him, why, — men 
are such fools I — she had better let him under- 
stand at once. While she pondered Sam spoke 
again. 

“ This farm, for instance. / don’t want it. May 
be it would suit you 1 ” 


42 


THIRD HAND HIGH 


“ Sam,” she burst out bravely, but in truth blush- 
ing under the moonbeams like a peony, “ I said 
onct I wasn’t willin’ to be no man’s wife. But I 
do think some men need a wife if some women can 
do without a husband — and you’re one, if there 
ever was one.” 

“ Don’t say any more, M’rier ! ” he interrupted. 
‘‘ I did ask you to marry me once, and, if you’d 
’a’ had me theuy why, that would ’a’ settled it. But 
you said ' no,’ and that settled it. I’ve other ideas 
now. I’m going to live in Boston. All I can do 
for you is to deed you the farm, and that I’ll do 
to-morrow if you say so. It’s what I wanted to 
say when I came along with you from meeting. 
I ain’t goin’ under that roof any more — never ! ” 
“ Are you gone crazy, Sam Hawkins ? ” The 
widow almost screamed. 

‘‘Seems so to you, don’t it ” he said pitifully. 
“ I can’t wonder. But it’s all just as I say, M’rier. 
You don’t know how I hated the farm an’ the cat- 
tle an’ the whole round of country business, an’ 
hungered for the life of a big city since I was a 
a boy ; but I never thought worth while to grumble 
over what I couldn’t help. I’ve got the chance 
now, an’ I’m going out of this — you may be cer- 
tain about it — forever ! ” 

“To fool away your six thousand in some dod- 
rotted city swindle, like many another gudgeon,” 


SAM PLAYS A TRUMP 


43 


she cried bitterly, ‘^an’ then go back to work with 
your two hands worse than before ! Do it, Sam 
Hawkins ! Deed me the farm — Dll take it ! I’ll 
take anything an’ everything you’ll put into my 
hands. And when you’ve run through your legacy, 
come back to Birchstock and your senses an’ you 
shall have ’em back. But don’t expect anything 
more !” 

“ That is all right ! ” Sam answered with a smile. 
“ You’re a square girl, M’rier, an’ I quite under- 
stand. Now good-night ! ” 

“ Are you going on to Sanborn’s ? ” she asked 
with a faltering voice. 

I shall walk on to the Windermere,” he replied 
over his shoulder. 

*‘To the hotel ! Why, it’s all of four miles, and 
nigh ten o’clock now ! ” 

They’ll be open, I guess.” 

“ But, Sam ! ” She was almost crying. She had 
never dreamed she could feel in this way again 
over a man, A sudden flame of indignation con- 
sumed the weakness. 

Good-by, M’rier ! ” he repeated, moving on 
again. 

Good-by ! ” she shouted. Dollar an’ a half 
for lodgin’ an’ breakfast ! Go it, Mr. Hawkins, of 
Boston ! ” And then she unlocked the old red 
door of the old red house, — she h^d covered both 


44 


THIRD HAND HIGH 


with white paint often of late in her mind’s eye, — 
and passed into the ho7ne that had seen her so 
content and comfortable only two hours since. A 
spell of ashes and emptiness stared upon her, for 
her eyes were not as they had been. 


A MORNING CALL, AND A CONFIDENCE 45 


CHAPTER VI 

A MORNING CALL, AND A CONFIDENCE 

When Elder Bain went out to the barn the next 
morning to look at his new acquisition, he found 
her comfortably stuffing herself on the best hay, 
and winking both eyes in a meditative way at his 
daughter. 

Hello ! ” he cried, you up so early } And, 
bless my soul, if you haven’t cleaned up the stall, 
too ! ” 

‘‘ O papa ! isn’t she lovely ! ” Sadie answered 
with enthusiasm. “ She loves me already — and 
see ! Her skin is as soft as silk. What shall we 
call her .? ” 

‘‘Didn’t I hear you promising Mr. Hawkins 
something about that } ” 

“ When .? ” Sadie’s eyes opened innocently. 

“ Last night. ‘ Sam’s-a-Daisy,’ wasn’t it } 
Sounded that way.” 

“ Why, papa ! ” she exclaimed, reddening. “ Of 
course that was a joke ! ” 


46 


THIRD HAND HIGH 


A joke on the mare, hey ? ” he asked mischiev- 
ously. “Well, name her yourself. But maybe 
she’s got a name already. She’s old enough ; 
most people name colts by the time they’re 
broken.” 

Has she got a name } ” Sadie purred, putting 
her face down in the manger, and narrowly escap- 
ing the loss of her top hair, which the playful 
creature pretended to mistake for extra nice hay. 
“ You saucy thing ! I’ll call you Trixy if you do 
that again ! ” 

“ You haven’t watered her } ” 

“ Watered her ? Of course not — yet. But 
what are we going to do, papa } We have no 
trough.” 

“ Gleason’s isn’t far. Horses should be led to 
water before they are fed.” 

“ Can’t you bring water from the kitchen } ” 

“ In your mother’s mop-pail ? Well, that might 
do in cold weather, but in summer she would drink 
better at the spring.” 

“ I wonder if she would let me ride ? ” Sadie 
meditated aloud. 

“ Without saddle or bridle ? ” 

“ I used to ride old Hector that way, papa, at 
grandma’s. But he never would go out of a walk. 
Trixy might not behave.” 

Better not try it. She’ll let you lead her I 


A MORNING CALL, AND A CONFIDENCE 4/ 

presume. Run and get your hat, and Til walk 
down with you and see how she acts.” 

Never mind the hat. Let me bring her out, 
papa, please ! ” 

“Be careful, then. Some horses are afraid of 
petticoats. Make her stand over, and then go 
right into the stall. Whoa, Trixy ! That’s right. 
She seems to like you.” 

“ She’s a kitten, papa ! I do believe she’d let 
me get on her back. Why not try } I’d enjoy 
watering her so much if she would.” 

Mr. Bain hesitated. 

“ You couldn’t mount without help, anyway. It’s 
absurd, Sadie. You mustn’t think of it. Maybe 
I can pick up a side-saddle for you after a while, 
and then we’ll see.” 

A sudden tramp of hoofs was heard at this junc- 
ture, and in a moment more a horseman was dis- 
mounting just outside the door. 

“ Be still, Sandy ! Morning, Elder ! Morning, 
Miss Sadie! How’s Salmanazer.^ ” And what 
Sam Hawkins’s gray clothes and familiar voice 
could not do in the way of identification, his 
happy visage made certain. “Thought I’d take 
a morning ride, and see how the colt was, after 
the hard drive I gave her.” 

“She seems quiet,” Mr. Bain replied, “but 
comfortable. I just came out and found Sadie 


48 


THIRD HAND HIGH 


had done everything except taking her to drink. 
If we get an early riser, as well as a team, 
we shall be in luck.” 

‘‘Well — whoa^ Sandy! Now I’m here I’ll 
just take her to the trough. The church must 
fix up the barn before winter, and put in a pump.” 

“I can lead her. I like to!” Sadie objected, 
as he reached for Trixy’s halter. 

Sam laughed. “ I didn’t know how fond you 
were of a horse, Miss Sadie. She’s as gentle as 
a kitten, and used to young ladies. Ain’t you, 
Salamonazer ? ” 

“ Her name is Trixy!' Sadie said with dignity ; 
“ that is, unless she is named already } ” 

“Certainly not,” fibbed Sam ; “ or, at least, she’s 
probably forgotten about it.” 

“ Don’t most colts have names when they are 
broken ? ” she asked searchingly. 

“Kind of temporary ones, same as they have 
bridles. But the bridles and the names have to 
be used over and over again as the colts come 
along, so they don’t belong to any horse in par- 
ticular.” 

“ I see,” she said, smiling. 

“ And so you won’t call her Salmon ” — 

She flashed her eyes at him, and he stopped. 

“ Anyhow, I’ll go with you to the spring. Guess 
Sandy would like a mouthful. I’ve ridden him 


A MORNING CALL, AND A CONFIDENCE 49 

from the Windermere, and I don’t know whether 
he’s been watered or not.” 

“ You didn’t stay at home last night, then ? ” 
Mr. Bain asked quickly. 

“ No.” With a flush of color. 

“ Umph ! Didn’t come around that way, I 
suppose ? ” 

“ No, sir. Are you ready. Miss Sadie } ” 

She nodded, and, looping the halter over Trixy’s 
nose, followed Sam and his big roan down the 
road. Her interest in Sam’s relations to the 
widow was very small, anc^ she was too grateful 
just now to let him be teased in her presence. 
To her great surprise, they were hardly out of 
earshot from the barn when Sam introduced the 
subject himself. 

‘‘Miss Sadie, does your father think there is 
anything particular between M’rier Spooner and 
me ” 

“ Why — I — don’t know,” she stammered. 
“ Folks will talk, you know.” 

“ It’s a great mistake. I did speak to her 
once,” he added with shamefaced resolution, 
“ but she wouldn’t have me. That was a good 
while ago.” 

“ Perhaps she has changed her mind now,” 
Sadie ventured, averting her face a little. “ I 
shouldn’t wonder.” 


50 


THIRD HAND HIGH 


“ Since I got a windfall ? ” he laughed. “ Well, 
so have L” 

“Take care you don’t go farther and fare worse, 
Mr. Hawkins.” 

“ I never really cared for M’rier as a man 
ought for a wife,” he said with a desperate effort 
at confidence. “ I only asked her because she 
was good to the old folks, and it seemed the 
right thing. I was glad she didn’t take me up.” 

“But, you don’t mean to die an old bachelor, 
surely ! Perhaps ” — she glanced at him shyly — 
“there is somebody else ? ” 

“That’s just it. Miss Sadie. That is, I know 
what I want now. But about getting it — I’m 
afraid it’s pretty doubtful.” 

“‘Faint heart never won fair lady,’ you know,” 
she quoted gently. “You haven’t asked her ” 

“ No. It seems almost like asking the moon 
to come down out of the sky ! ” 

“Who can she be You seem to have a pretty 
high opinion of her merits ; or are you that rare 
creature — a modest man ? ” 

“No,” he answered soberly; “it isn’t anything 
in me, and maybe it isn’t really that she is better 
and sweeter than all other women. But to me 
she is a queen. Where she is, the air breathes 
sweeter and the sun shines brighter. Where she 
is not — well, nothing seems good. I love the 
ground she walks on ! ” 


A MORNING CALL, AND A CONFIDENCE 5 1 

“ You must be really and truly in love Sadie 
cried with unfeigned wonder. “Who can she 
be > ” 

Sam was not quite ready to answer this ques- 
tion. Fortunately they were now at the water- 
ing-trough, and there was a moment’s diversion. 
Trixy was more interesting for the present than 
Sam’s romance. Besides, Sadie felt, somehow, 
after her first surprise, annoyed at Sam’s extrava- 
gant feeling toward his charmer. She had fancied 
her own influence over him rather stronger than 
anybody else’s, and it wasn’t pleasant to learn that 
she had deceived herself. 

“ How differently they drink ! ” she said, com- 
paring Trixy’s little sips with the roan’s deep 
draughts. 

“ She’s delicate in all her habits,” Sam re- 
joined. “That’s why I thought you’d like her. 
No matter how thirsty she is, she takes her 
spoonfuls just the same.” 

“ It was very good of you to buy her for papa. 
And if I was considered in the matter, I thank 
you. They are done drinking, aren’t they } ” 

This being pretty evident, Sam turned his face 
toward the parsonage again. He had not replied 
in words. He was racking his wits for some safe 
way of conveying to this unconscious young per- 
son the suspicion, at least, that consideration for 
her was the strongest motive of his existence. 


52 


THIRD HAND HIGH 


CHAPTER VII 

CONFESSION IS GOOD FOR THE SOUL 

They accomplished about half the return dis- 
tance before conversation was renewed. It was 
merely to relieve the silence that Sadie finally 
said, — 

You haven’t decided yet whether you will 
live at the farm, I suppose.?” 

*‘At the farm.? Certainly not. Tm going to 
deed that to M’rier to-day.” 

You don’t mean she has bought it .? ” 

‘‘ Oh, no. I just make her a gift of it.” 

“ A gift .? ” Sadie was astonished. And then 
it occurred to her that he might have a reason. 
“ It’s rather an extravagant gift, isn’t it .? ” she 
ventured. 

“/don’t want it.” 

“ But you could get twelve or fifteen hundred 
dollars for it, couldn’t you .? ” And then, more 
quickly, “ You are going to leave Birchstock .?” 

“I suppose so.” He answered the latter ques- 
tion only. “ I think it’s time I saw a little more 
of the world.” 


CONFESSION IS GOOD FOR THE SOUL 53 

And of somebody who doesn’t live here ? Is 
that it ? But I should fancy the price of your 
farm would be rather useful to a man who is con- 
templating matrimony.” 

“I don’t think my wife — supposing I am lucky 
enough to get her — will miss it much.” 

“Wives, that is, verj/ bewitching ones, are apt to 
be expensive luxuries, Mr. Hawkins. I presume 
she is handsome } ” 

“Yes,” said Sam; “beautiful.” 

“ Stylish, perchance ? ” 

“Thoroughbred. A princess.” 

“ Oh, indeed ! ” Her lip curled. She ought to 
have felt like laughing, but really Sam was get- 
ting tiresome. At this opportune moment Trixy 
reached for an intrusive fly, and the pull on the 
bridle reminded her that such feelings were un- 
grateful. While she was considering how to make 
amends, he added, — 

“ She is not a rich girl, actually, Miss Sadie ; 
but she has rich people, and could look to marry 
among a class that mightn’t think a man such 
as I’ve been of much account. Of course, if I 
couldn’t give her the best of everything. I’d never 
expect her to have me.” 

“ The best of everything costs a great deal of 
money, Mr. Hawkins,” she said, laughing merrily 
enough now. “ Why, lots and lots of women 


54 


THIRD HAND HIGH 


in good society spend several thousand a year 
on dress alone, not counting jewellery, recep- 
tions, servants, house-furnishing, horses and car- 
riages, and the like. How many times a year, 
for instance, would you be able to give your wife 
such a present as you have given M’rier ? ” 

“ Oh,” he said, echoing her laugh quite cheer- 
fully, I see you think I need a guardian. I 
would tell you a secret, if you’d promise to 
keep it.” 

“A secret.?” Her interest in Sam received 
a very marked impetus. “ Why — you can’t 
mean ” — 

“ My income,” he said slowly, “ depends to 
some extent on how the investments pay. But 
it is not likely to fall short of sixty thousand dol- 
lars a year.” 

“ Sixty thousand dollars a year ! Almost two 
hundred dollars a day ! ” she gasped, awestruck 
by her calculation, and the amazing fact that it 
related to the man that she had teased, laughed 
at, and ignored for years, and who was, at the 
same time, her rather confidential friend at this 
moment. 

“You’ll be careful now, won’t you.?” he asked 
anxiously. “I don’t want people up here to 
know.” 

“ Tell me one thing more, Mr. Hawkins. 


CONFESSION IS GOOD FOR THE SOUL 55 

Do I know the lady ? Does she live about 
here ? ” 

“I can’t — at least, not now.” 

“As you haven’t asked her yet 1 But you will, 
now you are rich "i ” 

“ If I see my way,” he answered evasively. 
“ Maybe yoti could help me.” 

“/.^ Oh, dear ! What can you mean } ” 

“ It’s just here. Miss Sadie. I’ve got no chance 
now. She’s never seen me or thought of me ex- 
cept as a clodhopper who was as little account to 
her as the grass in the meadow, or the stones in 
a roadside fence. If I’m ever to win, it must 
be on her own ground. She must see me a 
gentleman amongst gentlemen. Now, that isn’t 
so easy. I could go where she is, but I’d have 
no friends there ; and I might not even get 
speech of her. See ” 

“You don’t mean that you haven’t even been 
introduced ” 

“ Introduced } Well, if I hady maybe it wouldn’t 
be wise to remind her of it. I don’t want to take 
any chances. It’s almost, I may say, a matter of 
life and death to me.” 

Sadie was greatly perplexed. 

“ But I don’t see,” she began. 

“You won’t even need to see ! ” he persisted. 
“ My plan is to have you, with your father and 


56 


THIRD HAND HIGH 


mother, go to Franconia for a week or two, to one 
of the hotels. We’ll have all the fun there is, 
while we’re there. We’ll have our own party.” 

“ But, do you imagine we have the kind of 
wardrobes people must have at such a place } ” 

“Money’ll buy ’em, won’t it?” 

“ Gracious ! ” 

“ That’s why I’ve told you so much. Miss Sadie. 
I saw you might object to letting me pay all 
the bills unless you knew money was no object 
to me.” 

“ But, even money won’t get us up properly in a 
moment ! ” she continued. “ It could be done in 
the city, perhaps, but here ! ” 

“ Go to the city. Wouldn’t Arthur’s folks help 
you ? ” 

“ But how could we explain ? What would 
people think ? ” 

They had reached the barn now, and Sam 
took the bridle off his horse, and put it on again 
aimlessly before he attempted to reply. When 
he got it done he was very pale. Sadie’s colt had 
walked quietly into her own stall, and Sadie was 
standing, a picture of perplexed thought. 

“I see how it is. Miss Sadie,” he said gravely. 
“ I thought if I could get you up to the moun- 
tains, have you mix up with the company, and 
ride and drive round with you, it would come 


CONFESSION IS GOOD FOR THE SOUL 5/ 

about more natural. But I’m afraid there’s too 
many difficulties ; and maybe you’d think I was 
wrong to deceive you. I only ask you to think it 
over a while before you answer, and remember 
it is my heart and soul that speak ! You are the 
woman I want to share my fortune with. You 
can find younger and handsomer and smarter men 
than I am, I know ! But I guess none of ’em 
would do more than I would and can to make life 
happy for you.” 

Nothing had prepared Sadie for this revelation ; 
but, insensibly to herself, the Sam Hawkins of her 
previous experience had been vaporized by the 
glory emanating from the millionnaire ; and this 
generous gentleman before her was decidedly in- 
teresting. She did not faint, therefore. And, 
escaping such a nervous shock, found herself 
mentally able to grasp the facts of the situation, 
and especially that most of the desirable things 
of life were simply begging her to condescend 
and accept them. Her face was a study of doubt ; 
but it expressed none of the alarm and anger Sam 
had feared. When he looked up he saw it, and 
sprang toward her. But the motion roused her 
consciousness, and she prevented his approach 
with a gesture. 

You ask me to be your wife } ” she repeated, 
as if doubting her senses. 


58 


THIRD HAND HIGH 


Miss Sadie, if I could have waited a year, or 
even five, with a chance that you’d notice me, I 
never would have asked you this way. You are 
hardly turned of twenty yet, and I am so much 
older ; and you have got a city education and 
genteel ways, and naturally think of me as a 
rustic. I know how people feel, and I don’t 
complain. At the same time. I’ve read some and 
thought some, and now I’ve got the means and 
the time, I guess I can make out to learn man- 
ners. I should try not to disgrace or vex you. 
And money will not make me any happier unless 
you will share it with me. I never worried about 
it till I loved you ; and the thing about its coming 
that made me joyful was the chance of winning 
you.” 

‘‘And you meant me all the time you were 
telling about the — woman you were afraid to 
speak to ” 

“ I have loved you — hopelessly and passion- 
ately — for over two years.” 

Sadie’s face flushed now. 

“ I never dreamed of such ” — She was at a 
loss for words. 

“ Presumption } I had no hopes. If this had 
not happened to me I should have kept my secret 
forever ! ” 

Sadie met his eyes now with a sudden smile. 


CONFESSION IS GOOD FOR THE SOUL 59 

''If you keep on in this strain, Mr. Hawkins, I 
shall have to remind you that I am only the 
daughter of a poor minister, who never in his 
life owned the value of the old farm you are 
giving away ! I am not so far above your former 
estate as to justify such humility. Still, I want 
to be honest ; I don’t think I would ever have 
thought of you as a husband ! ” 

"You have youth and beauty!” Sam cried 
incautiously. " Both are capital. You had a 
right to expect something for them. More than 
/ could give you.” 

" I am proud!' she answered with a flash from 
her blue eyes, " and would want my husband 
respected and respectable.” Then she smiled 
again. " I cannot answer you just now, Mr. 
Hawkins. I will talk it over with mamma and 
papa if you wish, and be guided by their advice. 
That is all I can promise.” 

Sam’s heart leaped exultantly. He was shrewd 
enough to see that the battle was won. With 
great self-control he suppressed this assurance, 
and sprang into the saddle. 

" I will return this evening,” he said huskily. 
"By the way, did you find the bundle under the 
wagon seat } ” 

"Not that I know of.” 

" Better look it up. It’s for you I ” And he 
dashed away at a canter. 


6o 


THIRD HAND HIGH 


In spite of her other emotions, Sadie’s curiosity 
impelled her to unbutton the leather cover, and 
with some trouble to draw out from its hiding- 
place — a most charming surprise — a beautiful 
English side-saddle, and bridle to match ! 


AND SHE MIGHT HAVE BEEN A SCHOOLMA'aM 6 1 


CHAPTER VIII 

AND SHE MIGHT HAVE BEEN A SCHOOLMA’AM 

Now, it had come to pass that Sadie’s maternal 
grandma, departing this life, left her little prop- 
erty to Mrs. Bain. It might have been put, and 
by most parents in her circumstances would have 
been put, to the relief of the family situation in 
general. But Sadie was the only child. She was 
ambitious, intelligent, and handsome to look upon. 
Papa and mamma were both proud of her, and 
both wished and hoped for her a future above 
their own modest lot. She had received a high- 

school diploma at S the previous year. They 

thought she would go to the State Normal, and 
fit for a teacher. 

But on consultation with Aunt Cline, that lady 
made the proposal to have her come to Boston 
and take a course at the Conservatory, which 
could be equally thorough in the absolutely neces- 
sary training, would be more eclectic as to 
method, and besides adding music to her accom- 
plishments, would give her greater social oppor- 


62 


THIRD HAND HIGH 


tunities. This seemed a perfect Godsend ; and, as 
it did not involve more family separation than the 
other, was eagerly accepted. 

The Conservatory courses allow considerable 
vacations, and Sadie took them. She was in no 
very great hurry to get at her career, and it did 
not bore her to spend a part of the year at Birch- 
stock. It is only fair to say that neither her 
father nor mother exactly understood Aunt Cline’s 
social ideas or manner of living. But “ Sister 
Helen ” could not be other than good in the esti- 
mation of “ Sister Molly.” And besides Arthur, 
her son, she had a daughter, not quite a year 
older than Sadie, and, of course, knew how to 
care for girls. 

Sadie wondered at first over city ways, but she 
liked them ; and her natural tact and secretive- 
ness prevented her mother’s receiving any moral 
shocks. She went to Boston much under the 
influence of ideas preached by her father and 
believed by her mother. If she yielded almost 
at once to the seductions of theatres and operas, 
and to sharing with her new friends the mascu- 
line attentions current in their set ; if she gradu- 
ally allowed herself to be drawn into such “ larks ” 
as card-parties where wine was ordered, yachting 
excursions, lunches at Young’s, with a matinee 
after, an occasional late supper after opera, and 


AND SHE MIGHT HAVE BEEN A SCHOOLMA’aM 63 

SO on, involving a certain barter of maidenly 
dignity or independence, as the case might 
be, for pleasiire at others’ expense, it was cer- 
tainly with the wounding, and finally the re- 
adjustment, of her conscience. So she was not 
exactly an ingenue, though free from experience 
of gross evil. And Sam’s proposal would appeal 
to her in the full force of its advantages, without 
the objections which might have occurred had her 
' knowledge of life been less superficial. 

It had not escaped her that “ youth and beauty ” 
were “ capital,” as Sam had phrased it ; and that 
for a woman of ordinary genius marriage might 
be a better thing than a profession. She had 
become pretty certain that her musical gifts 
would not be a safe dependence. She had con- 
sidered in turn, literature, the stage, and various 
commercial occupations open to women. Maga- 
zines had returned her articles. Her friends 
would not tolerate the footlights ; and one or 
two persons in the profession to whom she was 
able to confide her idea discouraged it with pic- 
tures of privations, toils, and exposures, physical 
and moral, which made her shudder. She had, 
meantime, formed her own opinion that a success- 
ful teacher was born, not made. So if she ever 
intended to justify her parents’ sacrifices in her 
behalf, she must either bone down very shortly 


64 


THIRD HAND HIGH 


to the drudgery of a commonplace occupation, or 
she must look to matrimony for a solution of her 
difficulties. And she knew nobody as yet who 
combined the three requisites of being suffi- 
ciently agreeable, well-to-do, and devoted. Like 
many other young women, she noted the fact that 
the nicest men she knew were already married ; 
not reflecting that before marriage they, perhaps, 
had faults not now apparent. Verbum sap. All 
of which amounts to this, — she was quite dis- 
posed to accept the right man. And she was 
face to the fact that fortune had not as yet 
produced him. 

Of course Sam Hawkins of Birchstock had 
never entered her thoughts. She had liked him, 
as a rather superior specimen of rural manhood, 
and because he was susceptible and deferent to 
her charms, without for an instant supposing he 
would think of approaching her. This idea was 
so settled, that even when he confessed to im- 
mense wealth she only wondered if he would fix 
up the church and parsonage, and help out her 
father’s salary. 

But he had asked her to marry him. And 
before he had well finished his appeal, a great 
flash of light struck her. This was her chance. 
It was something, at least, to realize that he was 
not, as a man of wealth, disagreeable to her, and 


AND SHE MIGHT HAVE BEEN A SCHOOLMA'aM 65 

that she was not ashamed to be the woman whose 
footsteps he worshipped. Nobody would say she 
had made a foolish match. Aunt Cline would call 
it a brilliant one. It is true, like other maidens, 
she had fully meant to fall in love with the man 
she married. She was not in love with Sam 
Hawkins. But he had regard enough for her ; 
and she saw no reason why he might not make 
an agreeable husband, with a little disciplining. 

So the excitement of his proposal was, on the 
whole, pleasant ; and the saddle and bridle were 
so acceptable that, had he waited, it is possible he 
might then and there have obtained a most deli- 
cious evidence of it. 

“ I will have a ride before breakfast ! ” so she 
resolved after a few moments’ consideration of her 
treasures. “ It will just give me time to think ! ” 
And thereupon she hurried into the house after 
a certain black skirt she knew could be let down 
in a trice, and a white sombrero Allie had given 
her last summer. 

Mamma was not up yet ; and papa, after making 
the fire in the range, had withdrawn to his study. 
There was nobody to parley with. In a quarter 
of an hour she was ready; and it did not take 
long to persuade Trixy into the saddle and bridle. 
She allowed herself to be led to the chopping- 
block. And then with a deft leap upwards. Miss 


66 


THIRD HAND HIGH 


Sadie was mounted, and knew herself mistress of 
the situation. Everything fitted to a charm ; 
and after three or four steps, to be sure of it, 
Trixy snapped her ears and cantered easily down 
the road, as good-natured as if there had been 
no such thing in the world as a half-consumed 
crib of nice hay. 

Down the road — not because Sadie exactly 
meant to go that way, but because Trixy was a 
horse, and that was the way to Concord, whence 
she had come. Sadie had not considered where 
she would ride, and Trixy may not have been 
homesick. But horses prefer going over familiar 
rather than unfamiliar ground. It is possible, too, 
Trixy may have known, by a kind of horse sense, 
that her late acquaintance, the roan, had taken 
this direction. 

Anyway, they passed Gleason’s, and were seen 
and recognized, so that shortly afterward papa and 
mamma, who discovered their absence, and were 
considerably exercised about it, could be reassured 
by Mr. Gleason on his way to the store ; passed 
the road leading down to the bridge, and the 
house of Aleck Maclean, the town clerk, a mile 
farther on. And then, the morning being beau- 
tiful and the road charming, they dropped into a 
walk, Sadie losing herself in vision and medita- 
tion, while Trixy browsed convenient mouthfuls 


AND SHE MIGHT HAVE BEEN A SCHOOLMA’aM 6/ 

of roadside leaves and wondered when she would 
hear hoofs behind her. 

For Trixy knew some time since, what Sadie 
did not suspect ; to wit, that the roan and his 
rider were pausing a while at the town clerk’s. 
Sam, confident now that he would be able to carry 
out his plans, had dropped in to write his resigna* 
tion of the office of selectman, so that the Board 
meeting to-morrow (which he did not mean to 
attend) could at once fill his place. 

Nor had Sadie got by — who ever did } — a Birch- 
stock farmhouse without being seen. Mrs. Mac- 
lean and Dorothy, and Jim Downs the hired 
man, all peeped at her, and would have let her 
know it ; but she had a way of not noticing folks, 
and folks liked to return the compliment. By and 
by, however, as Sam was about to mount, Dor- 
othy, merely out of regard for hini^ chose to say — 

“ Nice colt that — you gave Elder Bain. Looks 
fine this mornin’ canterin’ under a lady’s saddle.” 

“ What .? ” Sam asks quickly. “ When } 
Where .? ” 

“ Guess she’s talkin’ about Sadie. She was 
ridin’ by about ten minutes ago. ’Spect you’ll 
meet her. She won’t be goin’ fur this time o’ 
mornin’.” 

“ Oh ! ” says Sam. “ Out a’ ready is she ^ ” and 
without more words he nods a hasty farewell, and 
starts out to verify such pleasant news. 


68 


THIRD HAND HIGH 


Sadie is quite taken by surprise. Nor is she 
quite pleased. Her brow clouds up as he nears 
her. 

“ I thought you had gone ! ” she says shortly. 

“ I started for S , but had to stop at Mac- 

lean’s to attend to town business. They told 
me you’d passed by, and I thought I’d be likely to 
meet you. How does she ride } ” 

Sadie’s face cleared at once. 

“Just lovely ! ” she cried with enthusiasm. 
“ Papa must have another horse ; I shall always 
want Trixy myself ! ” And then she blushed, and 
darted a shy smile at him that made his heart 
bound with delight. 

“ Papa shall have a dozen if he likes ! ” he an- 
swered ; “and Trixy shall have gold shoes, and live 
in the parlor, if it pleases you ! ” 

“ What are you going to town for ? ” she asked, 
a little confused by his devotion. 

“ Well — suppose that’s a secret ? a business 
secret ? ” 

“ Oh ! ” she said with sudden haiUeiir. “ Ex- 
cuse me ! Come, Trixy, it’s breakfast-time ! ” 

Sam realized his blunder in an instant. 

“ Don’t Sadie ! ” he called after her. “ Please 
let me tell you ! ” 

She turned her head, but would not stop. He 
galloped to her side. 


AND SHE MIGHT HAVE BEEN A SCHOOLMA^AM 69 

“I was only joking, of course. Don’t be angry 
with me ; you have made me so happy I don’t 
know what I am saying.” 

‘‘ Stop ! ” she exclaimed. I think the saddle 
wants tightening. Whoa, Trixy ! ” 

Sam was on the ground in a moment. 

“ I was going down to pass away time till even- 
ing,” he said hurriedly, “and to arrange a little 
surprise for your father and mother.” 

“ Oh ! Is that all ? ” 

“What else.?” Sam asked anxiously. “Is 
there anything else I could do. Miss Sadie .?” 

“ I’m not sure. Mister Sam. Nothing for me of 
course .? Anyhow, you couldn’t get — dimnonds 
— in S .? ” 

“ Diamonds .? ” 

“In case — we were engaged — hm ! Mister 
Sam — I suppose I am entitled to a ring ! That is 
customary — and diamonds are the proper thing.” 

“Certainly, Miss — 7ny precious! But I can’t 

get it in S ! Tell you what! I’ll take the 

two o’clock train for Boston, and come back in the 
morning ! ” 

“And get cheated with a flawed or off-color 
stone .? Do you know anything about diamonds, 
Sam.?” 

“ I’ll go to the best store in the city.” 

“ No ; better wait. I shall go down to Aunt 


70 


THIRD HAND HIGH 


Cline’s perhaps next week, and you can call on me 
there. I shall wa7it a house in the city^ Sam ! ” 

“ Certainly ! ” 

“ And we’ll have lots to do and arrange before 
two country people like you and me can set up 
a suitable establishment.” 

‘‘Of course.” 

“ So you’d best come back this evening and see 
what papa and mamma say. Is the strap all 
right.?” 

“ Seems to be. Would you mind — Sadie — 
darling — if I asked for — just one — kiss?'' 

She hesitated, and laughed a little. As she did 
not say anything, Sam took courage, and, Trixy’s 
height not being great enough to prevent, caught 
her by the waist, and, bringing her lips within reach, 
picked off this foretaste of bliss so specifically 
that Sadie rather regretted allowing herself to be 
drawn into so helpless a situation. 

“There!” he said, as he replaced her m equi- 
librio, “ we are engaged ! Why can’t I ride back 
with you and see the Elder about it 7iow ? ” 

“ Because,” she answered, “ you would have all 
Birch stock aware of what had happened. And 
Birchstock would not know you are a rich man, 
and would think we were both very silly ! Don’t 
you see .? ” 

“ Ye-es I ” Sam said slowly. 


AND SHE MIGHT HAVE BEEN A SCHOOLMA'AM 7 1 

‘‘So Birchstock must know all, or nothing, at 
present,” she added. “ You will have to be very 
discreet.” 

“ You know, Sadie,” Sam said, after remounting 
his horse, and thinking a little, “ the folks around 
here have been pretty good to me all along, and I 
don’t like to have ’em think I’m ungrateful, or 
wantin’ to put on airs above ’em, so I had an 
idea to just slide out easy. If you think it best to 
let ’em know all about it ” — 

“ I should prefer to be married from papa’s 
house, of course,” with dignity. 

“You ain’t ashamed of me, then.!*” he asked 
quickly. 

She raised her eyebrows. “ Of catching a mil- 
lionaire husband Few girls would be, I fancy ! ” 

“ Oh ! Is that it .? ” 

“You see, I don’t pretend to be better than I 
am. And it seems to me we can afford to be - 
above-board.” 

“ All right ! ” he said with resolution. “Then I 
will go back with you ! ” 

She only laughed, and gave Trixya flip with the 
bridle. 

And the Macleans were in for a new surprise. 

And Mrs. Gleason wondered. 


72 


THIRD HAND HIGH 


CHAPTER IX 

AMBROSIA FOR BREAKFAST 

But that was nothing to the sensation at the 
parsonage. They rode right into the barn, and 
Trixy was soon meditating quietly over her hay 
again ; while the roan accepted a temporary berth 
in the cow’s stall. While this was going forward, 
Mr. Bain came out, already in a considerable state 
of wonder. 

“ A lady’s saddle — and a brand-new one ! Why, 
how’s this ? Did you bring it with you, Mr. Haw- 
kins } ” 

“ M iss Sadie found it under the wagon-seat,” Sam 
explained. “ And, by the way. Elder, I didn’t know 
one or two things about the mare when I gave her 
to you. How’d you swap her now for the roan } ” 

“Why, what ” — Elder Bain evidently thought 
this a joke, on reflection — “oh, I am perfectly 
satisfied ! ” 

“To swap ? It’s a go, then ! There, dear, now 
you’ve got Trixy ! And I’ll have to get the Elder 
to drive me round till I get another critter.” 


AMBROSIA FOR BREAKFAST 73 

Mr. Bain only stared. Sadie was rather red, but 
replied coolly, — 

Thank you, dear. Papa, with your consent 
and mamma’s, I have promised to marry Mr. Haw- 
kins. So please ask him in to breakfast.” 

She did not remain to enjoy his surprise then, 
but swept by with royal dignity into the house. 

“ What does all this mean ” 

Mr. Bain had turned upon Sam fiercely. 

Sam Hawkins raised his head, and met the other’s 
eye without flinching. 

“ It’s true, sir. I have loved her for over two 
years, but until I got this slant I never hoped to 
get her. I believe now I can make her happy.” 

Nonsense ! Why, man, she isn’t twenty yet, 
and you are thirty-seven or eight ! And she will 
never be satisfied to live in a place like this.” 

^‘Neither would I, 'Elder. My wife can live 
where she pleases.” Then, seeing that real grief 
and mortification underlay the look of scorn that 
answered him, Sam caught the good man by the 
arm, smiled into his face, and added, ‘‘ I’ve had 
it given out that I got only a small "legacy. But 
the fact is. Elder, Uncle Jim has left me over a 
million. So you see there’s no foolishness in all 
this. As to my age, I came of sturdy stock, and 
sha’n’t be dependent on my wife’s relations yet 
a while ! ” 


74 


THIRD HAND HIGH 


“ Over a million ! ” Mr. Bain repeated. Are you 
in your right senses ? ” 

“ You can depend on it. Why, look here, Elder. 
Here’s a letter of credit for thirty thousand — less 
than half a year’s income — which I just brought 
along from my New York agents. And if you 
doubt, write to Smiles & Bailey, and they’ll bear 
out all I say.” 

Sam really had a letter of credit for the amount 
named, issued by bankers in New York whose 
credit was known the world over. Mr. Bain was 
both awed and stupefied. 

‘‘And in this position you want to marry my 
daughter ? ” 

Sam perceived by the manner, as well as the mat- 
ter, of this question a very great change in the 
Elder’s state of feeling. It was to be expected. 
He bore no grudges. 

“ She’s more to me than all the money,” he said 
simply. 

“Dear me! Astonishing! And Sadie. accepts 
you ? ” 

This question being already pretty substantially 
answered, Sam only bowed. 

“ Breakfast, papa ! ” 

It was Mrs. Bain’s voice. It seemed to clear 
away the last cloud of doubt from the good man’s 
mind. 


AMBROSIA FOR BREAKFAST 


75 


Come in, come in ! ” he said. “ We must see 
what mother has to say to all this.” And Sam 
laughed a gentle laugh of happiness as he yielded 
to the impulsion of the cordial, almost affectionate, 
grasp upon his shoulder. 

Mrs. Bain listened more quietly than could have 
been anticipated to the astounding bit of news. 
She had long suspected Sam’s state of mind as 
regarded Sadie. It had led her to study him pretty 
carefully, and the result had aroused for him a 
feeling of kindly sympathy. She thought him a 
good man ; and this belief goe^ far with a mother, 
however ambitious. As things now were, perhaps 
she preferred him to any man she had yet seen, as 
a husband for her darling. But there is jealousy 
in mother-love, however unselfish in its devotion. 
The idea of worldly advantages was dimmed by the 
sorrow of yielding up her child to another’s love. 

“ I suppose you haven’t gone so far as to fix any 
dates ? ” Mr. Bain remarked over his second cup 
of coffee. 

“Wouldn’t take half an hour to get the license. 
Elder,” Sam says cheerfully. “I’m ready this 
minute ! ” 

“ Men usually are,” Mrs. Bain answers with a 
dryness that is not in the least humorous. “ I 
think a year is a very reasonable time to be en- 
gaged.” 


76 


THIRD HAND HIGH 


“ A year ! ” Sam echoes, terrified at such a pro- 
bation of his happiness, which he had been think- 
ing of as almost realized. 

“ Hm ! ” papa mutters, conscious that mamma 
is quoting an opinion he has often expressed him- 
self, but somehow feeling doubtful about it now. 
“ Usually — yes.” 

Sadie glances at Sam, and smiles. The smile 
reassures him wonderfully. So much, that he is 
inspired to make the bravest speech of his life : — 

“ Why must I wait a year, or even a month ? 
I love her with all' my heart, and I’ve lost a good 
deal of time already waiting for home comforts. 
Of course it must be as Sadie pleases, but I hope 
she’ll be good to me.” 

Perhaps he had not expected to receive a reply 
directly from the person appealed to. But Sadie 
had done an immense amount of hard thinking 
that morning. She was not influenced by that love- 
consciousness which makes maids timid. And she 
was eager to begin a new life so rich in the advan- 
tages she had always coveted. 

“ I want papa to marry us, and I think we might 
take Birchstock by surprise. It would be fun ! 
All I need is a trousseau and a travelling outfit, 
and with Aunty Cline’s help that won’t take long. 
Why can’t we all run down to Boston to-morrow ? ” 

“ Hm ! ” says papa in some confusion, “I — 


AMBROSIA FOR BREAKFAST 


77 


to tell the truth, Sadie — I don’t see how we 
could.” 

Mamma is simply aghast, and cannot speak. 

Sam laughs. 

‘‘Here’s the car-fares ! ” he says, tossing a roll 
of money across to Sadie. “And the five thou- 
sand in the bank at S belongs to the Elder. 

I meant it for the wedding-fee, anyhow ; and since 
he is the parson you want, Sadie, I’ll just advance 
it. That is,” he adds shrewdly, “for anything 
under thirty days.” 

“ I am ashamed ! ” exlaims mamma, almost cry- 
ing. 

“ Five thousand dollars ! ” murmurs Mr. Bain. 
He had never expected to own half so rriuch in his 
life. 

Sadie calmly counted her roll. It contained 
about three hundred dollars. It was a delightful 
foretaste of good things in store, and she gave Sam 
a happy smile. 

“That’s settled, papa and mamma,” she said. 
“ I’ll ride Trixy, and you three can go down in the 
buggy. We won’t need much baggage. One trunk 
will be enough. We can buy everything in Bos- 
ton.” 

“ When could we return ? ” papa asks, feeling 
swept away from his anchorage, and yet instinct- 
ively struggling at least to “look up,” as a sailor 
would say, against the tide of events. 


78 


THIRD HAND HIGH 


‘‘ Saturday,” Sadie replies positively. “ Of course 
you will be here to preach as usual Sunday morning. 
And then, after the sermon ” — 

“ We will be married ! ” cries Sam impulsively. 
“ Gracious ! ” And then, overcome with exultant 
gratitude, he beams upon Sadie, who looks startled, 
and pales under his eyes. 

“ I thank you from the bottom of my heart,” he 
adds in a low voice, as if she only could hear. 
“ You shall never repent giving me the treasure of 
your life and love.” 

At which, suddenly rising, she bursts into tears 
and rushes away, followed promptly by mamma. 
Sam looks abashed and distressed then. But Mr. 
Bain, himself a little humid about the eyes, reas- 
sures him with a fatherly pat upon the shoulder. 

“April showers,” he says. “Dear me! It all. 
seems like a dream.’’ 

“ So it does, sir,” Sam responds. “ I hope I 
haven’t been rude.” 

“ Not a bit, not a bit ! Your sentiments, sir, 
are very commendable. Women always cry when 
they are excited. Come into the study and let us 
talk this over. If it really can be done, why, per- 
haps Sadie is right — under all the circumstances.” 

“Of course,” Sam answers with conviction. 
“ Have a cigar. Elder ? ” 

Which vacates the dining-room, if we except the 


AMBROSIA FOR BREAKFAST 


79 


flies, who hum and feast cheerfully over the deserted 
board for at least an hour before any attempt is 
made to wash up the dishes. And, on this occa- 
sion, family prayers, which customarily follow 
breakfast, seem to be crowded out. This is re- 
lated with regret. By the way, who is it that said. 
Tobacco-smoking is the modern way of burning 
incense to Baal ” ? 


So 


THIRD HAND HIGH 


CHAPTER X 

THE WINDS WERE FAIR 

Mamma promptly secured a modification of the . 
rather startling programme which had struck Sam 
so favorably. She insisted on delaying matters at 
least a week. But this did not prove so great a 
cross to bear, because there was no restriction 
placed upon horseback rides, drives, or good cigars 
in the study. In the interval, of course, the neigh- 
borhood became aware of the engagement, and of 
its late selectman’s fortune. The possession of 
great gifts always glorifies a man in the eyes of his 
less fortunate acquaintance. Money is the gift most 
generally coveted. And as Sam was in the kind- 
liest of moods with himself, it was natural he 
should lose nothing of the regard which previous 
relations and present exaltation conspired to effect. 
He was warmly greeted and congratulated, and 
Sadie’s rides with him were always beset with in- 
cidental homage, which satisfied her wildest antici- 
pations. Of course Sam gained immensely in her 
estimation through all this. She began to feel 


THE WINDS WERE FAIR 


8l 


proud of him, and almost to wonder why she had 
never noticed how manly — how really gentle- 
manly — he was. 

Mamma also vetoed the horseback ride of eigh- 
teen miles — although this week of practice might 
have been quite a sufficient preparation for it in 
a physical sense. And Sadie submitted with a 
meekness rather unusual. The barn, with the cow 
and horse, was committed to the care of Deacon 
Gleason. Sam was instructed that he might take 
places on the stage for the party, and that his ser- 
vices otherwise could be dispensed with until the 
moment of departure. To make amends for this 
latter hint, Sadie accompanied him as far as the 
rickety parsonage gate, and said him good-night. 
As this happened at least an hour after meeting 
on Sunday evening, and quite in the dark, of course 
there can be no further particulars. 

Monday morning — it was now late in June — 
ushered in an ideal day. A shower had cooled the 
air, and groomed the well-kept roads. The mail- 
coach, drawn by four good horses, sped along 
gayly. Two things, only, puzzled the minister. 
It had arrived almost half an hour early, and no- 
body seemed to be travelling but themselves. 
Sam explained that they were running two coaches 
that day, and he had bespoken places in the extra. 
Mr. Bain still marvelled; but Sadie gave Sam a 


82 


THIRD HAND HIGH 


glance of approval, which was quite intelligent. 
Under such conditions, there was nothing to mar 
the enjoyment of a journey traditional, the world 
over, for its pleasures. They were travelling over 
one of the famous stage-routes to the great White 
Hills. 

If Mr. Bain had any lingering doubts regarding 
the prize his daughter had drawn in the matrimo- 
nial lottery, they were removed at S . At the 

Valley House they had a dinner in courses ; Sam, 
being a political character, had learned how that 
was done. Afterward there was a drive to the 
bank. This institution Mr. Bain had always re- 
garded with a secret reverence, which the apostle 
Paul’s radical views on finance could not quite 
subdue. It is easy to preach against the root of 
all evil ; but it is very hard to escape the conclu- 
sion that it seems to support most desirable, and 
often unattainable, fruit. Mr. Bain had rarely 
entered a bank. And never, in his whole life, had 
he possessed a bank account. He fairly trembled 
with excitement as he passed the wealthy portals, 
and felt the glass doors swing softly to behind 
him. 

Sam had already seen greater things ; and, be- 
ing aware that he could buy half a dozen such 
banks as this, moved up to the cashier’s window 
w/tliout any deeper emotion than was chargeable 
to a benevolent purpose. 


THE WINDS WERE FAIR 


83 


‘‘Good-morning, Mr. Sommers.” 

“ Why, good-morning, Mr. Hawkins,” the cashier 
responded most cordially. “ Glad to see you down. 
Anything wanted this morning ? ” 

“Yes. I have a little account here that I want 
to transfer to the Elder — to Mr. Bain.” 

“To — Mr. Bain.!* Ah! I believe I have met 
the gentleman. Rev. Mr. Bain, the Baptist pastor 
at Birchstock > ” 

Mr. Bain bowed, and blushed. He had seen 
Mr. Sommers, of course ; but he had no idea Mr. 
Sommers had a recollection of him. 

“A gift to the Lord ” Mr. Sommers inquired, 
with a little genial facetiousness. “ Not a new 
church in the wind, is there ? ” 

“ Nothing of that sort,” Sam answered, blushing 
in his turn. “Just a payment — for value received, 
or value Tm going to receive. I’m going to be 
married, Mr. Sommers, and this is the parson’s 
fee.” 

“ A princely one, I must say,” the cashier an- 
swered, with very evident astonishment. “But 
you can afford princely things, Mr. Hawkins. Is 
it in -order to ask who the lady in the case may be ? 
Anybody hereabouts ? ” 

“ Somebody that is with me at the hotel,” Sam 
answered, with a little accession of dignity. “ Miss 
Bain — Mr. Bain’s daughter.” 


84 


THIRD HAND HIGH 


“ Ah ! under the circumstances, of course.” 
Mr. Sommers’s face beamed with understanding. 
“ Shall I transfer the entire amount ? ” 

“Five thousand.” 

“ Exactly. Step round inside, and give us your 
signature, Mr. Bain. Just sign this check, Mr. 
Hawkins.” 

A button operated by electricity released the 
partition wicket, and the minister passed round by 
the desk marked “ teller,” where little piles of coin 
and notes were exposed for the day’s business. 
The sight thrilled him strangely. In his excite- 
ment he probably recorded the most uncharacter- 
istic signature possible in the big book. 

“ What’s the balance ^ ” he heard Sam ask. 

“ Six hundred fifty,” the cashier answered. “ Did 
you intend to close the account 

“ Not to-day. I have all I am likely to use at 
present. But I expect we shall live in New York 
or Boston, so I won’t be likely to keep much money 
here.” 

“ Well, we pay interest on deposits, you know. 
We can use any moderate amount very profitably 
among your old friends, the farmers and logging 
people, — helps along business. If you have funds 
lying idle, why, remember us.” 

“ Certainly,” Sam answered thoughtfully. “ By 
the way, how is Gleason making out ? ” 


THE WINDS WERE FAIR 85 

“ The storekeeper up at Birchstock ? Oh, fairly, 
I guess. But his capital’s small, you know.” 

I suppose it is,” Sam says. “ I’d like to help 
Gleason, but I expect he’d kick.” 

We could manage it, no doubt,” Mr. Sommers 
answers. “ We hold a note of his for six-twenty- 
four-forty, indorsed by one of our merchants, on 
which he wants a renewal for sixty days ; but the 
indorser don’t care to stay.” 

“Wants to hold on to his young cattle,” says 
Sam ; “ I understand. , Well, just make a note to 
me, and I’ll indorse it ; and when Gleason drops 
in again let him sign.” 

The cashier nodded. Mr. Bain felt a new respect 
for Sam, based on his familiarity with the methods 
of finance. And when, with a check-book in his 
breast pocket, he turned from the bank, the assur- 
ance that his signature had drawn a hundred and 
fifty dollars in crisp notes fresh upon him, and that 
he could at will draw forty-eight hundred and fifty 
more, it is doubtful whether a richer or happier 
man than the good parson dwelt in the regions of 
material existence. He felt a new manhood within 
himself, and for the first time realized what differ- 
ent worlds a man lives in when he has money and 
when he has none. 

Sam, however, paid the hotel and stage bills, 
and purchased the tickets to Boston ; so that Mr. 


86 


THIRD HAND HIGH 


Bain had no immediate occasion for spending, 
which he felt a curious itching to begin. He was 
rather scandalized when Sadie, on the top of this, 
sent Sam back to secure places in a parlor-car. 

*‘The ordinary cars are comfortable enough, I 
think, Sadie,” he gently expostulated. 

“ Train up a man the way he should go,” Sadie 
answers sententiously. “ I’m sure Sam would 
have taken parlor-car places if he had thought, 
and I want him to keep his thoughts about him.” 

Sam came back smiling. He noted later on, 
however, that parlor-cars do not afford some ad- 
vantages common to the ordinary kind. 

He had planned to secure a seat with Sadie. 
She 7night, of course, have arranged to ride with 
mamma ; but he thought that could be prevented. 
Now she reposed sweetly in a faiiteiiil, and several 
unoccupied ones, more or less distant, invited Jiis 
favor. It was a disappointment. And, being 
human, he was fain to pass more or less time with 
Mr. Bain in the smoker. 

Now, everybody knows that one need not leave 
a Pullman to enjoy his cigar. A very nice little 
room at the farther end is at his service, and he 
can smile at his lady friends between whiffs, through 
the clearest of plate glass. 


DR. SEBASTIAN BROWN 


87 


CHAPTER XI 

DR. SEBASTIAN BROWN 

It is also a fact that no matter how fast the 
train moves, or how delinquent the roadmaster 
may be on spring repairs, you can hear yourself 
talk. Both these considerations appeal to Mr. 
Bain. Sam only cares to smoke and meditate, 
glancing occasionally at a chic figure in tan- 
colored travelling-dress, which is lazily contriv- 
ing to amuse two very wide-awake blue eyes with 
illustrations in Judge y Pucky and Life. Fortu- 
nately for the amenities, they are not the only 
occupants of the anteroom. A dignified gentle- 
man, with smoothly shaven face, gold spectacles, 
and a newspaper, occupies a seat directly opposite 
the minister. On close observation, and this was 
soon taken by Mr. Bain, he looks rather the more 
clerical of the two. He wears a clerical suit of 
immaculate broadcloth. His watch-guard is of 
black silk, with gold mountings. His eyes are 
very earnest, and his mouth and throat indicate 
capacity for oratory. 


88 


THIRD HARD HIGH 


Looking over his paper, he notes Mr. Bain’s 
regard, and immediately observes, with a sigh, — 
“There seems an almost unprecedented mor- 
tality among the world’s eminent men just now.” 

Curiously enough, Mr. Bain has been consider- 
ing this very circumstance in the homiletic way, 
and thinks the opening providential. 

“The scythe is amongst the tall grain truly,” 
he responds. “Not all of it, in human estima- 
tion, ripe for the harvest, either.” 

“ Humph ! I suspect that figure of speech 
was not intended, originally, to apply to Azrael’s 
mowing. ‘ The harvest is the end of the world ; 
the reapers are the angels.’ ‘ The harvest is ripe ; 
the reapers are few.’ Those are purely moral 
phenomena. Death is physical. Men die, not by 
moral, but physical law. However, sir, I think 
you have suggested the main interest men have 
in the physical dissolution. What was the pur- 
pose of A’s unfinished career ? Where, now, is 
B’s wisdom and skill How shall C’s lifelong 
martyrdom be recompensed ? These are the 
conundrums of the ages.” 

“Yet in the light of Christian faith ” — 

“The answer is. Hell, I am aware.” 

“ Oh, dear ! ” exclaims Mr. Bain, startled that a 
man he had taken for a clergyman could speak so 
flippantly. After a pause, he ventured, “We are 
prone, I fear, to judge successful men harshly.” 


DR. SEBASTIAN BROWN 


89 


We naturally envy men who have been lucky 
or strong enough to get the cream of life. But 
don’t understand me to indorse the view I men- 
tion. All I intend is that these men, being of a 
different spirit from that of Jesus of Nazareth, 
cannot be reasonably assigned to his fellowship. 
From mj/ point of view they followed their inborn 
genius and the influences environing them, as we 
all do, and morally deserve neither more nor less 
than the rest of us. What puzzles me is, — have 
these men utterly perished, or are they still 
scheming, striving, following up the experience 
life has given them ? Rationally, a life 

following this should connect somehow with its 
results. Christianity gives us no revelations on 
this subject.” 

“ Christianity dooms the principalities and 
powers of this world ; it reveals a new heaven 
and a new earth. Not the evolution of mechan- 
ics, merchants, and lawyers, but mau renewed in 
his Maker’s likeness.” 

‘‘ Regenerated — by the means of evolu- 
tion ? That seems to me rather unscientiflc.” 

‘‘ The change will be miraculous certainly.” 

‘‘Ah!” the stranger answered, with a serious 
shake of the head, “that was just Mr. Micawber’s 
failing, wasn’t it, — looking for effects without 
means ? ’' 


90 


THIRD HAND HIGH 


*^Szr/” Mr. Bain exclaimed, deeply scandal- 
ized. 

“I mean no offence. I only used the most 
suggestive illustration I could think of. From 
my point of view,” and here the speaker de- 
veloped a rarely pleasant smile, ‘‘ a man, or a 
social order, that is waiting for miracles is just 
waiting for ‘something to turn up.’ And your 
position is exactly that of orthodox Christianity, 
I believe, as it is of most ancient or mediaeval 
religions. I must say, it seems to me irrecon- 
cilable with all reliable human records, or a moral, 
consistent government of the universe.” 

“ It is manifest to the eye of faith,” Mr. Bain 
replied. 

“ Faith is, indeed, the revealing faculty of the 
soul,” admitted the other, “and far be it from me 
to doubt its powers. Yet faith without works is 
only idle imagination. The faith that removes 
mountains always carries a pick and shovel. It 
attacks with rational means. So far as religion 
has done this, it has accomplished great things. 
When it has waited for ‘ wonderful works,’ in 
the sense of miracles, it has failed to save or 
serve men. It is men and women who have been 
able to live heroic lives that elevate the race. Of 
these, Christianity has furnished only a moderate 
contingent. Why should I believe God ordains 


DR. SEBASTIAN BROWN 


91 


to save the world, or build heaven, through means 
so — historically — inefficient } ” 

The minister perceived that, theology being 
itself a science requiring whole libraries for its 
elucidation, it would serve no good purpose to 
make serious effort to convince a mind so far 
from first principles as the stranger’s. He there- 
fore gave him now a paternal smile. 

“ I shall have to confess, sir, that I had fancied 
at first you were of my own cloth, — a minister 
of the gospel. I see that I cannot even reckon 
you a Christian.” 

“ Professionally, I’m only a doctor of medicine. 
But, if you please, I would much like to hear 
your definition of a ^Christian.’” 

“A Christian,” Mr. Bain answered, *Hs an in- 
telligent being into whose consciousness the 
spirit of God has entered, revealing the necessity 
and sufficiency of Christ to redeem the soul from 
sin and sin’s consequence, death.” 

“ Count me one, then, who desires to be a 
Christian,” the doctor said fervently. I am 
greatly obliged for your courtesy. But we are 
nearing my station. Good-day, sir.” 

“ Excuse me, doctor,” says Sam, who has gradu- 
ally become a listener, and has heard several 
things that interest him. “ I would go some 
distance to talk with you a little myself. Do 
you live in Nashua ? ” 


92 


THIRD HAND HIGH 


The doctor eyed him a moment with surprise. 
Mr. Bain, who had been trained to something 
more of delicacy than Birchstock customs de- 
manded, and was doubtful about the usefulness 
of such an acquaintance for Sam, whose ground- 
ing in theology he had reason to fear was not 
quite solid, gave him a little nudge of caution. 

“ We can hardly presume upon the doctor’s 
time now, Mr. Hawkins. I regret myself, sir, 
that you are not travelling farther.” 

Here is my card and address, Mr. Hawkins^'' 
the doctor said, abruptly thrusting a square of 
pasteboard into Sam’s hand, and then examining 
his face with interest. “Your name, at least, I 
sha’n’t forget. No relation to the late James L. 
Hawkins of New York } ” 

“ My uncle ! ” exclaimed Sam, too much aston- 
ished to look at the card. “Did you know 
him.?” 

“ What’s that .? Your uncle .? Was your father’s 
name Ephraim.? Have you seen Mr. Bailey.?’’ 
All this in a breath. 

“ Straight goods ! ” Sam exclaimed. 

“ In that case, sir, we shall be pretty certain to 
meet again. How far do you go .? ” 

“To Boston.” 

“ Stay long .? 

.“Till Saturday.” 


DR. SEBASTIAN BROWN 


93 


Leave your city address for me at Adams 
House. Good-day.” 

And with that he rushed into the main com- 
partment after some rather bulky belongings, and 
landed with them the instant the train stopped. 

He seems to be a busy as well as a most 
eccentric person,” remarked the minister. See ! 
there he goes in an open carriage at top speed.” 

Sam examined his card now with deep interest. 

Sebastian Brozvn, M.D., 

Specialist y 

1 7 Vandecker Street y New York City. 

I wonder what his ‘ specialty ’ is ? The Adams 
House ! Wonder if we can’t put up there } I’ll 
ask Sadie. She knows all about Boston.” 

To be sure ! 


94 


THIRD HAND HIGH 


CHAPTER XII 

SAM GOES TO SEE A TAILOR 

Sam had gathered from Mr. Bailey, or through 
his visit to New York, but a superficial idea of the 
rich uncle whose estates he inherited. He had 
previously known nothing about him whatever, 
except that when a young man he left tke paternal 
acres suddenly, and by night, and was not heard 
from for a number of years. Then he had sent 
home a thousand dollars as payment for the “ time ” 
he had failed to serve, according to law, and wrote 
occasionally to Ephraim. The letters promptly 
ceased when the latter, failing to hold his own 
with the world, asked for a loan of money. James 
did not care enough about relationship to under- 
take paying its expenses. He had done all he 
thought just for his family, and would have en- 
couraged pauperism sooner in any other than his 
own people. Like most successful men, he despised 
those who hadn’t the energy and wit to be inde- 
pendent. 

He had built apartment houses, and Smiles & 


SAM GOES TO SEE A TAILOR 95 

Bailey collected his rents. He lived in lodgings 
himself, being a bachelor, and preferring that 
method of avoiding domestic responsibilities. No- 
body where he lived knew he was rich, or could 
pretend to any intimacy with him. He seemed a 
solitary outside his Wall-street office. There he 
occupied desk-room, doing business chiefly by cor- 
respondence, which he attended to personally. 
Examinations of his memoranda, and of such 
letters as remained (he seemed to have destroyed 
everything he could as he went), showed that his 
clientage was mostly Western. He had, in fact, 
accumulated his capital originally beyond the Mis- 
sissippi. A small Herring safe, of obsolete pattern, 
contained some mining shares of doubtful value, 
and some old personal letters and papers which 
Sam had not examined. The truth is, Sam was 
dominated by a very different passion from curi- 
osity at the time of recovering these souvenirs. 

Now that success had tempered the passion of 
love somewhat, his interest in Uncle James became 
stronger. Among the incidents of this journey to 
Boston, meeting a man who knew him was not the 
least interesting. 

Sadie did not approve the hotel patronized by 
Dr. Brown, preferring, in view of the general 
appearance of her party, and the necessity of 
using a carriage, a less crowded locality thap 


96 


THIRD HAND HIGH 


Washington Street. She decided on the Claren- 
don. “That will be convenient,” she said; “and 
mamma' won’t notice the noise so much. I find it 
very hard to sleep in the city the first few nights.” 

Afterward mamma wondered if the jar of drays 
and street-cars really did seem worse anywhere in 
Boston than at the place selected, and whether 
city people ever got more than two hours of sleep. 
But the splendors of hotel furnishing, the dainti- 
ness of the cooking, and the brightness and luxury 
everywhere, almost awed her. She had never 
dreamed of such living. No wonder city people 
grumbled at country fare ! The contempt and pity 
she had always felt for such childishness, the will- 
ingness to forego the glories and luxuries of worldly 
wealth, the reasonable content she had always 
deemed certain to her soul when possessed of a 
bare competence, melted away in the revelation. 
And if she had doubted in her heart that Sadie 
should accept Sam for his money’s sake, the doubt 
vanished. 

How much easier it is to renounce the world 
we dofit know, than the world we do know ! 

“ About that ring } ” Sam whispered at the 
supper-table, after a wary look about him to be 
sure the waiter-girl couldn’t overhear. 

“ What ring ? ” Sadie inquires innocently, but 
blazing her great eyes into his at the same moment. 


SAM GOES TO SEE A TAILOR 9/ 

The — the engagement ring, you know. Can’t 
we slip out and get it after supper } ” 

** Oh, there isn’t any hurry.” 

“ But I want to see it on your finger.” 

“We can’t buy diamonds at night.” 

“No.^” he asks, disappointed. “Aren’t the 
jewellery stores open ? ” 

“ Oh, yes ! But you see — I can’t tell a stone 
at night. And, anyhow, / ought not to go with 
you.” 

“ Why not ? ” 

“To buy an engagement ring } Absurd ! Why, 
a gentleman usually carries one when he intends 
to propose. Ladies don’t go round to jewellery 
stores advertising their engagements.” 

“But you see,” Sam objects eagerly, “I didn’t 
expect to propose — and — I don’t believe any- 
body would ever guess we were going to be mar- 
ried.” 

“Perhaps not, unless they caught you buying 
me diamonds. By the way, are you carrying much 
money in your pocket } ” 

“Loose cash Humph! No; only about as 
much as I gave you yesterday.” 

“You see,” Sadie says meditatively, “an en- 
gagement ring ought to be something very nice, 
and yet not too valuable to be always worn. / 
want two stones in mine, very. white and pure. 


98 


THIRD HAND HIGH 


perfectly matched, and not over a caret and a 
half. We shall have to give the order, probably, 
and have the ring made for us.” 

Td rather ! ” Sam exclaims, perceiving in this 
extravagance the refinement of good taste. ** But 
won’t it take too long ? ” 

We could go and see,” she replies. ** If you’ll 
telephone for a Boston cab at seven, — don’t get 
anything from the hotel, mind, — I’ll be ready. 
Say you want a carriage for the evening. And ” — 
Well } ” Sam asks, seeing that she hesitates. 
I — suppose I ought to see Aunt Helen, and 
explain matters. We haven’t much time to lose. 
Would you mind waiting in the carriage for me 
while I run in } I don’t want to introduce you 
to-night.” 

“ Of course not.” 

**Then we’ll call it arranged. Cab at seven, 
mind.” 

Sam telephoned. Then he lounged round and 
smoked with Mr. Bain. At 6.58 the cab reported, 
and a call-boy went up to notify Miss Bain. She 
kept them waiting six minutes. 

“ Where shall we go ” Sam asks, as the cab- 
man waited for orders. 

To Pollard’s. It’s somewhere on Washington 
Street, isn’t it.? The diamond merchant’s.” 

Tremont, They won’t be open now^ ma’am,” 


SAM GOES TO SEE A TAILOR 99 

responds the cabman. “ Hours from eleven to 
four.” 

“ I thought so,” says Sadie. Really she hadn’t, 
but this was a feminine retreat. “ I wonder — if 
Norling & Bloom ” — 

“They’ll be closed, too, ma’am.” 

“You seem to be posted,” Sadie says rather 
tartly. 

“ Been driving round the city for about six years 
now, and you see we have to know things. Any- 
where you like, though, ma’am.” 

“ Is there a first-class tailor to be found open in 
the evening ? ” she asked, after a little hesitation. 

“ I guess so, ma’am,” politely suppressing a 
smile. “ Ladies’ or gents’ ^ ” 

“ Gentleman’s, of course. Very well. Take us 
to a good place. I don’t know much about tailors.” 

“ All right.” 

The cab moved off at a comfortable jog. Sam 
wondered. 

“ Since we must go somewhere,” Sadie explained 
after a moment, “and it is early to call on auntie, 
you may as well be measured, and order your fur- 
nishing goods to-night. I can select the cloth to- 
morrow, and order the suits, and you can get a 
trunk. You don’t know enough about dressing 
yourself becomingly to be trusted, Sam.” 

“ N-no, I suppose not,” he answered humbly. 


100 


THIRD HAND HIGH 


At the same time his heart bounded with the 
thought that this sweet creature was already as- 
suming the cares and prerogatives of a wife ; and 
he was inexpressibly proud of her wisdom and 
womanly provision. This element in marriage he 
had not considered in reference to Sadie. MWier 
would, of course, have looked after his clothes, and 
generally taken him in hand where his mother 
left off. But in Sadie it was a subject for grati- 
tude and wonder. His emotions kept him silent 
until the cab stopped. Then Sadie alighted with 
him. 

“ Up one flight, to the left,” the cabman ex- 
plained. And, following this direction, they found 
themselves in a salesroom of ample proportions, 
but pretty closely packed with tables, whose con- 
tents were preserved from dust with cotton cover- 
ings. Two or three gentlemen, sans coats, were 
being measured, and two or three more seemed to 
be waiting. At the appearance of a lady, however, 
an attache came forward at once. 

‘‘ I wish to see the chief,” Sadie said, with a 
certain haughtiness that impressed Sam greatly. 

“ Certainly, madam. Will you be seated ? I 
will ask him to step this way.” 

She placed the chair he offered so that her back 
was presented to the greater part of the establish- 
ment, and sat down. Sam remained standing, in 


SAM GOES TO SEE A TAILOR lOI 

uneasy wonder whether he should remove his hat, 
but holding to himself the benefit of the doubt. 
In about two minutes a gentleman of small dimen- 
sions, with remarkably black hair and eyes, ap- 
proached them, bowing low to the lady, and then 
looking sharply at Sam. 

I wish to give you an order for several suits 
for this gentleman,” Sadie said, fixing his atten- 
tion at once to herself. “ We want an evening 
costume of French broadcloth, which must be 
delivered on Friday evening ; a business suit, and 
two other suits proper for a gentleman’s ordinary 
wear, the first as soon as your establishment can 
make it, the others to be sent as we may direct. 
We ask no limit, within reason, as to price. But 
we must have two certainties, — a good fit, and the 
greatest despatch.” 

Madame, indeed we shall be pleased to serve 
you, but we have so little time until Friday 
evening.” 

“We must have it then. If you cannot do it 
we must try elsewhere.” 

“ Ah, must is the word we all obey, madame. 
But it is expensive — must^ 

“Do you mean that this place can’t make a 
dress suit in four days ? ” 

“ Ah, but, madame, we have not one, but many 
orders with must. We do as we say. We prom- 


102 


TPIIRD HAND HIGH 


ise, and it is fulfilled. But, madame, it will cost, 
for the best, three hundred dollars.” 

“Very well. You will have it ready } ” 

“ Madame understands that we require in these 
cases a deposit } ” 

“ From people you don’t know, of course. 
How much } ” 

“ I would say, at your pleasure, fifty dollars, 
madame.” 

“You can have it. But the business suit is 
wanted at once. When can we have that ? ” 

“Another must, madame. But it is more easy, 
as we can employ many workmen who could not 
touch the other. We can deliver it Wednesday.” 

“ On Wednesday morning, not later than ten 
o’clock .? ” 

“If madame requires.” 

“ We will leave you to select the material in 
this case. Be sure it is what a man of means and 
good taste would be willing to wear. Material for 
the other suits I will call and examine to-morrow. 
What hour will suit you ? ” 

“ Almost any, madame.” 

“Very well. I’ll wait in the coup/, Sam. By 
the way, have you any nice shirts } ” 

Sam reddened. “ You mean — starched ones ? ” 
he stammered. “I bought three in New York.” 

“ What size collar do you wear ? ” 


SAM GOES TO SEE A TAILOR 


103 


“ I don’t know exactly.” 

The tailor stepped forward with a small tape, 
which he deftly applied. 

*‘You will need fifteen and a half, or perhaps 
sixteen, madame.” 

“ Very well. If I am not in the carriage when 
you come out, wait there for me. I will see what 
I can find.” 

And she departed, leaving Sam a smile to medi- 
tate upon, while the tailor measured his athletic, 
if not classically harmonious, proportions. 


104 


THIRD HAND HIGH 


CHAPTER XIII 

SADIE TELLS AUNT CLINE. 

The back parlor at Mrs. Cline’s need not be 
particularly described. You are quite at home 
there if you belong to the comfortable ten thou- 
sand of almost any large American city. It is 
tastefully rather than expensively elegant. The 
carpets, rugs, and upholstery are in gently 
modulated colors, and each article of furniture, 
or of bric-a-brac, is an obligato in the general 
harmony. 

But you breathe, as you enter, the odor of 
violets ; you do not think of violets, because at 
the instant you perceive two lovely women, and 
your senses pool their issues in admiration. Mrs. 
Cline has been a fair widow many years ; but the 
creamy complexion has lost nothing of its bloom, 
and her figure still supports the graces of an Aph- 
rodite. Diamonds flash from her fingers and 
throat ; but diamonds are not so wonderful as the 
opal in her dark gray eyes. Few ladies of her 
age could dare an evening robe so classically sim- 


SADIE TELLS AUNT CLINE I05 

pie ; and fewer, of any age, could present so per- 
fect a picture of feminine grace. 

This strikes you at once. But all its witchcraft 
remains when, on more critical analysis, you de- 
cide that her hair is not quite a natural blond, 
her nose is too short, her lips too full, and that 
the arch above them is too deep. Or even after 
you have seen her photograph. This last is a 
crucial test. The cold glass eye of the camera 
has no sentiment. 

But Alicia need not fear being overlooked, even 
in this bewitching presence. She is tall and fair 
as the fabled daughters of Aslauga ; with red gold 
hair, and eyes of iridescent brown that look out 
from their soft fringes with the sweet gravity of 
a thoughtful soul. Her face, though so' much 
younger, possesses a maturity that her mother’s 
may never attain — a consciousness of a deep 
inward life. It might belong to a priestess of 
Vesta, or to a captive Gulnare of the Sea. She is 
more elaborately and conventionally robed than 
her mother, in a tea-gown of pale green silk, 
trimmed with old-gold ; but she wears only one 
jewel, — a plain brooch at the throat. 

What they had been discussing it is hard to 
imagine. Nothing, at least, of interest to us, 
until the door-bell sent them a silvery note 
of diversion, and they were aware of some 


io6 


THIRD HAND HIGH 


privileged caller on the other side of the thick 
portieres. 

A colored maid-servant moved them aside a 
moment later. 

“Miss Sadie Bain, ma’am.” 

“ Sadie V they echoed in a breath. And Alicia 
instantly rose and moved toward the parlor. 

“ She came with a gentleman,” supplements 
the maid with a grin that in a servant of any 
other race would have been presuming. “He 
ain’t come in, though; he’s out in the carridge.” 

“Very well, Myrtle. Ask her in here, 
Allie.” 

Myrtle’s head and smile vanish together. A 
faint gurgle of exclamations and kisses comes 
thi:ough the curtains, and then the young ladies 
appear. 

“ You must excuse my coming to-night, auntie,” 
Sadie’s warm contralto murmurs, as Mrs. Cline 
rises to welcome her. “ And I left Sam outside 
so I could talk to you. Arthur’s not about, is 
he .? ” 

“Arthur’s evenings at home are not very fre- 
quent,” his mother said, with just a trace of state- 
liness. There was something about Sadie’s man- 
ner that she did not quite fancy. “ May I ask 
who ‘ Sam ’ may be ” 

“ The gentleman I am to marry next Sunday, 
auntie, — Mr. Samuel Hawkins.” 


SADIE TELLS AUNT CLINE lO/ 

** Samuel — who ? ” A look of astonishment 
made the beautiful face almost haggard for a 
moment. 

Hawkins, auntie. He is an old friend of ours, 
and ahnost an old bachelor. But he is quite 
wealthy — and very devoted ” — 

Mrs. Cline made a gesture that silenced her, and 
then asked imperiously, — 

“ Hawkins, you called him ? Is he a Boston 
man } I did not know you had friends of that 
name! ” 

Oh I he has been one of our town selectmen 
for several years, and sung in our choir,” Sadie 
explained, wondering at her aunt’s manner, and 
entering into details she had not intended. “ But 
he inherited a million from an uncle in New 
York” — 

“ How long since ? ” Mrs. Cline spoke almost 
fiercely. 

“Very recently. I believe Mr. James Hawkins 
— a very eccentric and miserly old man — died a 
year ago ; but there was some trouble getting the 
property together, and finding the heir. Why, 
auntie ! what is the matter ? ” 

“ Nothing I It is so sudden I ” She had dropped 
into her chair now. “And your mother and 
father .? ” 

Are with me^ of course, We are at the Clar- 


io8 


THIRD HAND HIGH 


endon. You see, auntie,” and Sadie’s manner 
became humble enough now, “ I must get a ttmis- 
seatiy and I did not dare to trust anybody but yoit 
to help and advise me — you and Cousin Alicia, I 
mean. We have no end of money, you see, and we 
want to go to the mountains and the seashore, and 
appear as we ought to.” 

“ A millionaire ! ” This was Alicia’s voice. 

And we want you both to go with us,” pursued 
Sadie, “ and be our guests as long as you can.” 

Mrs. Cline laughed now. Alicia flushed and bit 
her lip. 

‘‘ A large party for a wedding-tour, isn’t it } 
Did I understand you are to be married next 
Sunday ? ” her aunt asked. 

“ After the sermon, in the old church, and by 
papa. After the ceremony we shall drive over to 
Franconia, go from there to the Profile House, 
where papa and mamma and you and Allie can 
join us. Auntie, will you stop laughing } ” 

“ I can’t help laughing, my dear ; you must for- 
give me, really ! It is a kind of hysteria I fall into 
when I am startled or excited — and this is sj.ich 
wonderful news ! A million of money — oh, dear,* 
dear ! And you will marry in less than a week ! ” 
Perhaps I have told enough to-night, then,” 
Sadie says, with a touch of the hauteur she occasion- 
ally displayed. And then, wilting again as Alicia’s 


SADIE TELLS AUNT CLINE IO9 

arm ‘suddenly stole about her, “ Only say you are 
glad, auntie, and that you will help me, as you 
always have ! ” 

“ She shall, cousin ! Don’t mind her,” Alicia 
says, with an earnestness unusual to her. ‘‘We 
will have you all here to-morrow, and -talk things 
over calmly.” And then, taking thought, “ Won’t 
you ask Mr. Hawkins in, dear.? We should like 
to meet him.” 

“No; not' to-night. You see, we came in such 
a hurry, and he has so much business — perhaps 
to-morrow, or the day after. I am sure he would 
rather not until you have seen papa and mamma.” 

“ Very well ; as you please. But of course we’ll 
call on you in the morning.” 

“ And I mustn’t keep him waiting,” adds Sadie. 
“ So you will let me go now, auntie .? ” 

“ Go, child ! We won’t detain you. Only tell 
me this — honor bright ! Is there any — the least 
bit — of true love in this .? 0n7<?/^r part, I mean .? ” 

“Why, auntie,” stammers the girl, reddening, 
“I — of course I — like him very much. How 
could I help it .? He is so generous and good to 
me!” 

“ Is he very much your senior .? ” 

“Oh, he’s — not forty yet — and — he doesn’t 
seem old at all.” 

“ Not exactly fatherly, then ?” 


no 


THIRD HAND HIGH 


Sadie’s face drew into dimples. 

No, indeed! Why, I’ve teased his life out of 
him for the last three years I ” 

“ Ah ! ” Mrs. Cline’s face assumed its quizzical 
expression, and she gave her shoulders a little 
shrug. Then, my dear, you should be happy. 

I congratulate you. Adieu ! We’ll call in the 
morning, as Allie says. Give my love to Molly 
and Papa Bain.” 

Well,” ventures Sam, as his charming pro- 
prietor reseats herself at his side, “ and how does 
the Cline family take it } ” 

Aunt Helen and Cousin Allie think I have 
made a great haul. But they haven’t seenj/<?/^ yet, 
Sam. There’s the rub I ” 

Humph ! ” Sam rejoins. 

‘‘All depends on your discretion now. You 
must contrive to be too busy to see them until 
you get your first suit from that tailor, and learn 
to feel easy in a white shirt and cuffs. You can 
practise that all day to-morrow. I’ve got the first 
instalment of shirts, cuffs, buttons, and neckties, 
all in that bundle. See that you get into them in 
the morning.” 

“Sha’n’t I seefou to-morrow.?” 

“ I’ll breakfast with mamma and papa. You 
can join us. But you must clear out after that. 
We shall go to auntie’s to dinner, and probably 


SADIE TELLS AUNT CLINE 


III 


remain there. You can call every evening at 
eight, if you choose — when you have some clothing 
that fits you. Not before, mind.” 

And all day ” — 

All day I shall be very busy with dressmakers 
and shopping. We are here on business, Mr. 
Hawkins.” 

Sam sighed ; but he was too happy, after all, to 
enjoy discontent, and soon gave it up. 

And I expect you to be shaved every morn- 
ing,” Sadie continued. And you ought to have 
a valet y 

“ A what.?” 

A man-servant, that knows how to dress you 
and keep you in order. All gentlemen of wealth 
— that is ” — 

Sam waited for her to finish the sentence. 

She seemed lost in thought. Then she smiled. 

And / must have a maid, of course ! I shall 
need her immediately. Sam .? ” 

“ Well, darling .? ” 

“ When you meet that Dr. Brown ” — 

» Yes .? ” 

“ Suppose you ask him if he can recommend a 
man — one that is experienced as a gentleman’s 
servant, you know.” 

‘‘ I might,” Sam answers doubtfully, “ if you 
think it’s necessary.” 


THIRD HAND HIGH 


1 12 

‘‘ People in our position must keep servants. 
It is our duty. If we didn’t, how would they live } ” 
“ Of course ! ” Sam says. “ I see. And the 
maid 

“I’ll consult auntie about her.” 


THE DEACON MAKES A TRADE 


II3 


CHAPTER XIV 

THE DEACON MAKES A TRADE 

Sam Hawkins was in error as to Gleason’s ob- 
ject in seeking a renewal of his note at the bank. 
He had already sold his yearlings, at quite a 
profit, and was buying younger stock. 

The truth was, he found this business so profit- 
able, that the good pasture afforded by the 
' deserted mountain farms in his neighborhood 
seemed the best of investments. As a rule, these 
farms were (as they are still) the best lands 
in the State. But the young bone and muscle 
drifted off to the mills or the level prairies of the 
West, and the old people could not keep the roads 
which gave access to them open when winter 
snows came. So the buildings rotted down, the 
wonderful Baldwin apple-trees ran wild, and the 
rocky fields sodded into pastures. 

The particular farm the deacon had his eye on 
was not actually deserted, though the banking of 
earth had not been removed from about its sills 
for several summers. That is to say, the sills of 

/ 


THIRD HAND HIGH 


1 14 

the house or barn. It still cut a little hay, and 
yielded a few barrels of good apples. Perhaps 
half as much in cash value as would pay the taxes 
assessed upon it. The tenant did not pretend to 
cultivate it ; and the owner, our friend Widow 
Spooner, was quite satisfied if the pasture fence 
kept clear of the law. It had, however, ten or a 
dozen acres of well-grown second-growth timber. 
This was an element of value the town appraisers 
could not overlook. And M’rier understood so 
exactly what that value was, that no scheming 
logger could see a speculation in it. Gleason him- 
self ran logging-crews in winter; and M’rier’s ten- 
ant had been his regular debtor every fall for a 
pair of lean cattle, which had to be as regularly fore- 
closed upon in the spring — when they had waxed 
fat — at beef prices. Somehow the provision and 
feed and groceries and tobacco always came to 
more than the hauling of logs. If the deacon 
hadn’t been a thorough Christian, and trained to 
the forgiving of debts, these perpetual balances 
out of pocket must have ruined him. 

Gleason talked timber to M’rier. M’rier wanted 
to sell the farm or nothing. But a customer for 
the farm was not forthcoming ; and so, finally, 
she had let down her price. The result being 
that the deacon offered her a hundred and fifty 
under. The timber was needed to fill a contract. 


THE DEACON MAKES A TRADE II5 

M’rier wouldn’t ; but all the same the deacon 
thought it wise to have the money ready. 

And the same day which witnessed the depart- 
ure of Mr. Bain’s party for Boston saw Gleason’s 
old white horse switching a pensive tail under 

a shed in the vicinity of the S National 

Bank. 

His return home over the moonlit road was a 
happy one. Hawkins had done him a neighborly 
turn. In the warmth of his heart he resolved to 
pay the widow her price, and be done with it. 

It was only force of habit that made him pro- 
pose to split the difference with her early next 
morning. He was greatly astonished when she 
took him up. 

Gosh ! ” he exclaimed, opening his eyes wide. 
“Seems to me you’re right on the trade this 
mornin’, ain’t ye ? ” 

“ I want the money,” she answered shortly. 
“ If you won’t pay fair price for’t, and want 
seventy-five dollars worse’n I do, hev your way. 
You’re a Christian.” 

“Tradin’s tradin’, widder,” he said reprovingly, 
after an impressive pause. “ I wouldn’t wrong 
ye — not for seventy-five dollars and somethin’ 
more. But you always was smart, and ain’t 
needin’ a guardeen more’n myself, I guess. Are 
ye goin’ to fix up this place for summer boarders ? 


ii6 


THIRD HAND HIGH 


‘‘ Me ? What for ? What’s this place to me ? ” 

“Understood Sam Hawkins deeded it to ye.” 

“And s’pose he did.? Fools an’ their money 
are soon parted. He’ll need it himself afore long, 
an’ he kin hev it back. At the rate he’s spreadin’ 
round, ready money won’t last long.” 

“ Maybe he’s not so ixtravagant as you think. 
Hev ye figgered his income .? It’s an awful lot of 
money fur one man to handle.” 

“ I know folks is all talkin’ that stuff. Nat’ral 
they would when he’s givin’ away horses and 
wagins like they was picked off trees. But I 
guess nobody don’t know it.” 

“ Sam’s inherited a million o’ money, widder.” 

“ A million ? ” she repeated dubiously. “ That’s 
more’n I kin reckon. Guess it ain’t any more’n 
there’s ways to fool away.” 

“The intrus’ alone, at six per cent, supposin’ 
he couldn’t get no more,” — here the deacon puck- 
ered his face in calculation a moment, — “ the 
intrus’ would be around twelve hundred dollars 
a week.” 

“ All that ! ” she exclaimed, astonished. “ And 
he’s goin’ to marry Sadie Bain ? ” 

“ Looks like it, sartain. Anyhow, he give the 
Elder five thousand yisterday for a weddin’ fee. 
Sommers told on’t himself. I alwus had an idee 
he wanted her, but dursn’t say so.” 


THE DEACON MAKES A TRADE* II/ 

And he old enough to be her daddy ! ” M’rier 
cried scornfully, her face red with mortification. 
“’Tain’t likely she’d ’a’ looked at him if he hadn’t 
come into a grand fortin’.” 

‘‘Wall, I dunno. I’m sure. His dad and gran- 
dad married late, and both on ’em took young 
women. ’Pears like a fam’ly trait. Sam’s ma 
wuz a kind o’ delikit-bred woman too. She 
wa’n’t no wife for a farmer. Sam’s chance with a 
woman oughter be better, a long ways, than the 
old man’s.” 

M’rier did not reply. She had turned away, 
and was tapping the turf impatiently with her 
foot. The deacon rubbed his nose with his whip- 
hand, and cleared his throat. 

“Wall, ef it’s a trade about the property, 
widder, that’s all I hev to say. The money’s all 
ready. When’ll ye make the deed ? ” 

Never!'" she screamed, turning upon him 
with a fire of passion. “ Do you hear ? Never! 
I’ll let it rot down before you’ll git a stick of my 
timber, or an acre of my pastur’.” And with this 
astonishing announcement she threw her apron 
over her head, and fled into the house, slamming 
the door behind her. 

Gleason sat fully two minutes staring at the 
front of the house. That was the only sign he 
gave of the state of his feelings, unpleasant as 


Il8 THIRD HAND HIGH 

they must have been. Then he gathered up the 
reins, and, calmly turning the horse’s head to 
the road, drove home. Discipline prevailed over 
the impulses of nature. But he had the caution 
to breathe through his nose, and keep his lips 
firmly closed. 

“ My God ! ” M’rier was muttering in her soli- 
tary house, “she’s goin’ to marry him fur his 
money, that wouldn’t hev wiped her feet on him 
afore, the deceitfuly sUick-iip caty and I — I’ve been 
such an all-jiredy ctissed fool ” 

Singularly enough, this latter reflection, in much 
the same words, was forced upon the deacon when 
he related the foregoing circumstances to his wife. 

“ M’rier won’t go back on her word, you can-de- 
pend on’t,” this sibyl concluded. “ So you may 
whistle for your pastur’. Nobody but a thick- 
headed, blunderin’ man would ever hev thought of 
such a thing as stirrin’ her up on Sam Hawkins. 
Of course she’s mad, and mortified to death about 
it. She’s counted on marryin’ him when she got 
ready fur full five year; an’ she hates Sadie, be- 
sides, like pizen.” 

“ Wall, how was I to know that ? ” he re- 
sponded, with a warmth he rarely exhibited out- 
side the confines of his own domicile. “ Wimmin 
is the very Satan to deal with, anyhow. You 
never know where to find ’em. As to her goin’ 


THE DEACON MAKES A TRADE 110 

back on her word, she’s done it a’ready. She 
took up with my offer, plump, soon as I made it.” 

“ An’ why didn’t you turn about, then an’ there, 
and come away ? Nothin’ to prevent, was there ? 
Oh, no ; you must stop gaddin’ with her, an’ 
spile it all ! What was Sam Hawkins’s affairs to 
you ? Wall, git off to the store if you’re goin’ 
this mornin’. It’s high time, an’ I’ve got pies to 
make an’ ironin’ to do.” 

Long experience had satisfied the deacon that 
it was best to bottle his discontents during the 
occasional periods when his wife had a grievance. 
When the family quarrels are only indulged by 
one party at a time, it is comparatively easy to 
support their dignity. Let us, by all means, em- 
ulate his discretion, and await our turn. It is 
pleasant to record that he closed his lips, and 
departed to the store. 


120 


THIRD HAND HIGH 


CHAPTER XV 
m’rier gets ready to move 

It was known before churchtime on Sunday 
morning that the minister had returned without 
his family ; but, none the less, curiosity was ripe, 
and the congregation which gathered to hear the 
morning discourse was drawn from several miles 
round. The Elder’s appearance in a new broad- 
cloth suit and silk hat did not diminish the 
interest. Auditorium and choir-loft were literally 
crowded ; and outside, not only sheds, but fence- 
posts, gave out, and teams had to be hitched to 
each other’s wheels. 

M’rier sat in her usual place. She would have 
preferred a back seat down-stairs, or, rather, not 
to have come ; but she knew her absence would 
be commented upon, and pride demanded the 
torture. 

The usual morning hymns, reading, and prayer, 
went off quietly. Then came the weekly notices. 
But after the announcement of the evening prayer- 
meeting, the minister said, — 


m’rier gets ready to move 


I2I 


** I omit the usual weekly meetings, as I must 
be absent. R^v. Mr. Tilson of Canaan will prob- 
ably supply for me next Sabbath. I shall hope to 
be with you again on the following week.” 

Here came a pause. Then, with a smile, he 
added, — 

“I can hardly misunderstand the personal in- 
terest which draws here to-day so many friends 
and neighbors. It will, perhaps, be pardoned 
me if I announce now the coming marriage of 
my beloved daughter to our respected townsman, 
Mr. Samuel Hawkins, whose accession to wealth 
and its responsibilities, by the will of Divine 
Providence, has been so sudden and so interest- 
ing. It is their desire to be married here. And, 
believing that such will be your pleasure, I cor- 
dially invite you to witness the ceremony, which 
will take place immediately after the sermon, two 
weeks from to-day, should all things be favorable. 

“ I have, also, been invited to take a vacation, 
with my dear wife, for four weeks following this 
event. As it is my privilege, under my contract 
with the Society, I have arranged so to do. The 
pulpit committee will take notice, and provide as 
seems to them good. 

‘‘My text you will find in the sixteenth of 
Mark, sixteenth verse. Mark sixteenth, six- 
teenth : ‘ He that believeth, and is baptized, shall 


122 


THIRD HAND HIGH 


be saved ; but he that believeth not, shall be 
damned.’ ” 

It was a great opportunity, and the minister 
strove to greatly improve it. M’rier seemed 
deeply interested in the argument and exhorta- 
tion. She looked steadily at the preacher, turn- 
ing neither to one side nor the other, though aware 
that many covert, and some unconcealed looks 
were turned upon herself. She did not, however, 
join in the closing hymn, and, as soon as service 
was over, went straight home. 

She had formed a resolution. Birchstock should 
neither pity nor laugh at her — at least to her face 
— any more. She would get what she could for 
her property, and then leave it forever. And she 
would go to a city, too, where there was a chance 
for a woman to live without dependence on a 7nan. 
She hated men. They were such clumsy, blunder- 
ing, tyrannical idiots ! 

Now, it is supposable that M’rier had saved 
money during her widowhood, whatever she did 
when a wife. And M’rier wasn’t a believer in 
banks, or in paper securities other than currency. 
She might have doubled her capital by loaning on 
real or personal estate ; but she preferred to put it 
away daily and weekly, as she found it coming 
in, where she could see that it was safe and 
available. Once it was deposited, she rarely drew 


m’rier gets ready to move 123 

upon it. She did not buy and sell in a trading, 
that is, a speculative, way. Her staple was the 
labor of her own hands. She made butter, and 
supplied certain customers at the best market 
prices. She raised lambs, geese, turkeys, and 
chickens, and shipped eggs in little cases, every 

week, to a particular store at S , which paid 

cash in registered letters (at her expense) once a 
month, and took her fowl in their season. Glea- 
son usually bought the lambs ; but he expected to 
pay, at least partly, in ‘‘store goods,” and M’rier 
managed to limit her needs in this respect to 
articles of wearing apparel. Her groceries were 
part of her hire, as were the hay and grain she 
fed out. 

So, M’rier had by her, — and that means in or 
about the house, — about a thousand dollars in 
ready money. 

Now, M’rier did not boast of this. She never 
hinted to a soul, not even to Sam, the possession 
of more than the few dollars she carried daily in 
her bosom, or, according to circumstances, in her 
stocking, and put under her pillow at night. For, 
besides a natural secretiveness, M’rier knew that 
if the facts were suspectt^d there was temptation 
in them for thieves and burglars. She was not a 
cowardly person, but discreet ; and this discretion 
appears also in the place chosen for her hoard. 


124 


THIRD HAND HIGH 


Consider — she ynight have put it, as some 
have done, in her mattress. But thieves are 
suspicious of mattresses ; and beds are especially 
unsafe in case of fire. Carpets have been used, 
and still are, by thieves themselves, to conceal 
notes and papers. The chimney-stack and hearth 
are able to resist fire, but these are such common 
hiding-places. And then, — it may as well be said 
here as farther on, — M’rier’s cash was not in 
notes alone. She had some gold, and almost a 
third of her total in silver. M’rier had a Chinese 
taste for silver. So the hoard demanded space, 
dryness, safety from fire, safety from rats and 
mice, and from thieves. This was a complication 
of conditions. Cellars, hollow trees, cavities in 
rocks, suspended iron pots in wells, holes in the 
earth, — none of these were able to fulfil them. 
But the thing, after all, was simplicity itself, when 
you come to think of it. 

The last place a thief would have looked ; 
better than a fireproof safe ; sacred to the uses 
of the housewife, and safe from the prowl of the 
ubidexterous male of her species. 

One thrust of a finger and thumb, and a piece 
of silver or gold vanishes beneath the floury sur- 
face. A similar thrust, and a roll of notes, done 
up in paper and tinfoil perhaps, disappears from 
view. But, similarly, a rake of the partly ex- 


m’rier gets ready to move 125 

tended fingers, — taking but a second of time, 
— and these things reappear, dry, bright, and 
available. But all this because M’rier makes her 
own soap. The ash-barrel ? 

Very near it ! 

A brick space, about waist-high, with a sheet- 
iron cover which had once been used for a sugar- 
pan ; this now received the ejecta of the stoves. 
M’rier periodically drew upon it for her lye-barrel. 
But she did not disturb the part of it which ex- 
tended back under the old smoke-flue. And, of 
course, when fresh material went in, it was at the 
front. 

It was in the woodshed, and perfectly accessible 
if you only knew the secret. But M’rier kept that 
to herself. 

Circumstances alter cases. About five o’clock 
on this Sunday evening, M’rier had on an old 
dress ; and she had locked the woodshed door, re- 
moved the rusty pan, and was raking the plums 
out of her dust-heap with busy fingers. The day 
of her need had come. And it was a holy day, — 
a day sacred to rest and repentance. Consider 
M’rier in her present occupation an object-lesson, 
rather than a profaner of the time ; for, verily, she 
preaches more forcibly than the minister of the 
morning, that from the ashes of hopes, labors, and 
ambitions we should be able to rescue the treasures 
of wisdom. 


126 


THIRD HAND HIGH 


M’rier did not have to toil very long. She 
knew whereunto she digged, and all she had to 
expect. The plums were shaken and blown free 
of the dust, and deposited in a brass-bound cedar 
pail. Then the sugar-pan was replaced, her hands 
and arms dusted, and she took up her burden and 
entered the house. 

There the money was carefully counted. The 
gold was tied up with the notes in the foot of a 
black stocking. The silver, which was in dollars, 
halves, and quarters, but chiefly the former, and 
must have weighed about twenty-five pounds, she 
put into a strong clothes-pin bag, and deposited in 
the bottom of her trunk. The stocking she put 
under her best bonnet, in the pocket. Then she 
closed the lid, and was about to lock it, but 
paused. 

“ There’s the deeds and papers,” she muttered. 
‘‘ I’ll put them in too, and have ’em all in one 
place, now I’m about it.” 

She drew out a box from under the bed. It was 
a kind of seaman’s chest, but small, and ornamented 
with heavy brass corners and a padlock. The 
latter was open, so she lost no time searching for 
keys. 

It contained nothing except a few old books, 
letters, and papers. She rapidly extracted three or 
four, and conned them over to be sure they were 


m’rier gets ready to move 127 

what she sought. All at once she laughed bit- 
terly. 

“That will! Sakes alive! I’ll keep that, if 
only to show Sam Hawkins, some time, how little 
Tm obliged to him. That was the old man’s plan 
to make him marry me — as if F d ever use sech 
a thing! Bah! No use crying over spilt milk. 
Here’s wy deed — and here’s Sam’s — not worth 
the paper it’s writ on. Guess I’ll send it to the 
bride for a weddin’ gift. Two weeks ! Well, I 
won’t be here to see it, thank God ! ” 

M’rier did not finish packing her trunk that 
evening. She had much to do ere she could get 
away, and she knew it. But she thought it all 
out, and busied herself doing such things as she 
could toward the end in view. 

She had decided upon an auction. She would 
sell the farm, the stock, fixings, furniture, and 
everything within the next ten days, to the highest 
bidder. 

After, she made her supper on bread and milk, 
and then sat in the window in the moonlight, while 
the throbbing of her heart’s loneliness blended 
itself into the beat, beat, beat, of the heart of 
nature, uttered in the voices of the night. 


128 


THIRD HAND HIGH 


CHAPTER XVI 

MACLEAN OF THE WINDERMERE 

^‘Whoa! Heh! 

The widow had noted the interruption of rapid 
hoofs upon the road for at least half a minute ; 
but her mood had not permitted curiosity sufficient 
to take her across the room, where she could view 
the road. Now she was aware that somebody 
had driven up to the door, and so she went and 
opened it. 

“Evenin’, M’rier.” 

“ Land alive ! Where did j/ou come from ? ” 

“Direct from the Windermere. Rather sur- 
prised to see me, eh ? ” 

“ I should say so, Mr. Maclean ! You must be 
wantin’ somethin’ in a hurry.” 

“Well, so I am,” he said with a laugh. “And 
ril bet you can’t guess what in a week. May I 
come in } ” 

He had alighted, and was tethering his horse, a 
frisky sorrel, to the post of the front gate. 

“ Why not } ” she answered, wondering more 


MACLEAN OF THE WINDERMERE 


129 


than ever. Eben Maclean was brother to the 
town clerk, but he was altogether another sort of 
man. He ran the Windermere in summer, a ho- 
tel in Florida in the winter, and was essentially 
the nabob of the valley. He had bought lambs, 
chickens, and eggs of M’rier, more or less, for the 
past six years : but this was his first personal 
visit ; and coming as it did in the evening, and in 
such a social guise, it greatly astonished her. He 
removed his hat politely as he entered. 

I’ve had you in my mind for a long while, 
M’rier,” he said, without preface. “ I ain’t much 
for dodging round corners. Is it a fact that Sam 
Hawkins is going to marry the Elder’s daughter } ” 
“ So it’s said,” she answered shortly, turning 
her face from the light. “ But I don’t know any- 
thing more of Mr. Hawkins’s affairs than the rest 
of the town — and maybe not so much. So if 
that's what you’re after ” — 

^‘Damned little / care for his affairs,” the visitor 
interrupted, — excuse the word, M’rier, — if he’s 
going to marry anybody but you. You see, I 
understood” — he paused. ^‘Anyhow,” he con- 
tinued, as she did* not offer to help him out, “it’s 
kept me from saying anything, though I’ve done a 
good deal of thinking.” 

M’rier stared at him, still silent. 

“ Can’t we be seated ” he asked, a little testily. 


130 


THIRD HAND HIGH 


Thus reminded of the proprieties, M’rier took 
his hat and hung it up, and then offered him the 
best chair, — Sam’s rocker. . She took a common 
one, maintaining the attitude of expectancy he 
seemed to resent. 

‘‘ The fact is, Mrs. Spooner,” — and she noted 
this little departure from his usual condescending 
familiarity, — “I am a man of business ; and I’ve 
noticed for a long time that you were a smart, 
prudent, not to say a fine-looking, woman. I’m 
sure the hotel business would suit you to a T. 
Now, I suppose you hadn’t thought of that^ eh } ” 

M’rier almost lost her breath. At the same 
time she reflected that some rumors were abroad 
respecting the relations of Mr. Maclean with a 
*Mady” who had served him as matron last year, 
and she did not intend to run risks of that sort. 
So she only uttered a syllable, — ‘‘ No.” 

‘‘ And you see,” pursued the gentleman argu- 
mentatively, there’s so much to do in a house 
that only a woman knows how to do right. And 
you’ve got to have girls for the chamberwork and 
tables, and it would take a cat to watch ’em.” 

“Was you wantin’ a good cat.?” M’rier asked, 
a little sarcastically. 

“ I want a — woman — that I can depend on.” 

“Easy enough to be had — for the money.” 
M’rier was sure of her ground now. 


MACLEAN OF THE WINDERMERE I3I 

“ Not SO easy as you might think. And the 
deuce of it is, people will talk so about a man 
that ain’t married, up here in the country.” 

‘‘That don’t hurt a man much,” M’rier re- 
marked significantly. 

“Maybe not. But it hurts the house. And 
then it’s rather tough on the lady.” 

“ Guess you’ll hev to get married, then. Don’t 
see how else you’re goin’ to help it. Why don’t 
you } ” 

“ I’ve thought of it. But there you are again. 
A good wife ain’t easier to get than a good 
matron. But, M’rier, jokin’ aside, you’re pretty 
comfortable here, ain’t you ? Two farms, some 
payin’ stock, and a tidy bit of cash saved up, 
eh ? ” 

M’rier smiled. “ Maybe so. What of it } ” 

“I s’pose Hawkins deeded you the place here 
to save talk ? ” Mr. Maclean hitched his chair 
closer, and spoke in a low tone, bending toward 
her confidentially. 

“What sort of talk, Mr. Maclean.?” M’rier’s 
manner went down to zero in an instant. 

“ Why, of course, no harm to speak of it now, 
is there .? Of the old man’s willing it to you over 
his head.” 

“ He don’t know nothing about it to this 
minnit, unless Aleck blabbed to him as he did 


132 


THIRD HAND HIGH 


to you — drat him ! ” the widow cried in great 
wrath. I’d no idea of makin’ use of it, an’ 
Aleck knew it ! Lord love you ! The old man 
hadn’t no more rightful claim on this farm than 
you have to-day ! I jest let him make that fool’s 
paper out to humor him. And Aleck and Ruth 
witnessed it, ’cause I thought they’d think enough 
of me, and of Sam, to keep it quiet. Talk about 
women tollin’ all they know ! Women ain’t a 
carcumstance to the dratted men ! ” 

During the greater part of this tirade Mr. 
Maclean’s eyes were, regretfully perhaps, bent 
upon the rag-carpet at his feet. But certain lines 
in the outer corners, said to indicate a foxy ele- 
ment of character, were quite sharply drawn. At 
its conclusion he raised them pleasantly. 

“Aleck hasn’t told anybody but me, you can 
depend. He knows I can be trusted. So it 
won’t go any farther. All the same, M’rier, if 
I was you. I’d hold on to such a document, since 
you’ve got it. My experience is, you can’t have 
too good titles to property nowadays. For all 
you know, the old man may have made half a 
dozen wills before yours. If one of ’em turned up, 
it would knock Sam’s deed of gift high. For my 
part. I’ll say frankly, I wouldn’t feel a bit safe to 
take a deed of you — knowing the case as I do — 
if that will was destroyed.” 


MACLEAN OF THE WINDERMERE 


133 


M’rier laughed a little uneasily. The hotel- 
keeper’s argument impressed her. However, the 
document was safe, and she so assured him. I 
didn’t see no reason why I shouldn’t keep it,” 
she added. “ I s’pose I had a right to ? ” 

“Sure. But, Mrs. Spooner, that ain’t what I 
came to see you about, anyhow. Guess it’s no 
use beating about the bush. You asked me a 
while ago why I don’t get married. Now, that’s 
just what I’ve been wanting to do for some time. 
And I didn’t, because the only woman I knew 
that just suited and the business was s’posed 
to be engaged to another man. I only found 
out that it wasn’t so — /or certam — in church to- 
day. If Hawkins is going to marry the Elder’s 
girl, why, it ain’t likely he can marry M’rier 
Spooner ! See ? ” 

M’rier simply stared at him. Her astonishment 
was too great for words ; she doubted the evidence 
of her own ears. 

“M’rier Spooner’s the woman I want,” Eben 
repeated. “ What do you say to that, M’rier ? ” 

“ Me f You want to marry me } ” 

“No scandal in that, eh? First-class matron. 
Girls all kept in shape, kitchen regulated, no bed- 
bugs or damp sheets, somebody with an interest 
to see to things when I’m called off, and a wife 
to love me, into the bargain. That’s ^/le pomt, 
M’rier.” 


134 


THIRD HAND HIGH 


He was really in earnest, then. Eben Maclean 
— the great Maclean of the Windermere House — 
had asked her, was at this moment asking her, to 
marry him ! Such an honor she had never even 
dreamed of ; not in the days when she had tem- 
porized with Sam, in the hope of better chances 
ahead. And Sam had wounded her pride in the 
end sorely. She saw at once how triumphantly 
this offer would enable her to soar over the laugh- 
ter and pity of the gossips. And he, Eben, had 
wanted to ask her a long time, and had kept 
silence on Sam’s account ! She was immensely 
flattered at the thought. 

She raised her eyes, and looked at him timidly. 
He reached over and took hold of her hand. 

^^Say the word, M’rier. This is business. Say 
doiiey and I’ll have Aleck make out the license, 
and we’ll get in ahead of the other crowd. Why 
not.^ We’ll drive over to the village to-morrow, if 
you like ; or we’ll be married by the Canaan minis- 
ter Sunday, in church. That’s my style, — when 
you’re going to do a thing, why do it 

“ O Lord ! ” Was this a prayer for guidance ? 
As she uttered it, they both rose. The next mo- 
ment his arm had taken possession of her waist, 
and she was drawn irresistibly close to at least 
two hundred pounds of physical suasion, while his 
lips murmured into her ear, — 


MACLEAN OF THE WINDERMERE 


135 


“Say it out, M’rier. Say you’ll do it. First — 
second — third call. What is it, M’rier ? ” 

“ Ves” she said. And then he kissed her. O 
Judas! 

The human heart is certainly a conundrum. 
Half an hour ago Mrs. Spooner was miserable 
because — and now — 1 ! 


136 


THIRD HAND HIGH 


CHAPTER XVII 

A FRIEND OF THE FAMILY 

It became pretty evident in the course of the 
next two days that even the possession of un- 
limited cash could not secure the wardrobes Aunt 
Cline thought absolutely necessary, in the time 
Sadie had set. And what was the necessity of so 
much haste.? They were in Boston, and there 
was a great deal to see, as well as to do. The 
Bains were compelled, in the first place, to accept 
Mrs. Cline’s hospitality. Then there were old 
acquaintances for Sadie to meet, and so much 
shopping, pleasant rides, and a variety of interests 
which her aunt knew how to command to make 
time pass pleasantly. ‘‘ And you know, dear,” 
that astute lady urged, “you have really had no 
engagement season at all. Make it at leas*!: two 
or three weeks, for decency’s sake.” 

Sadie, who had not anticipated all this, was 
well disposed to yield to it, since she was enjoying 
herself ; and Sam, after a little demur, felt that 
he ought to submit. So it was arranged that he 


A FRIEND OF THE FAMILY 1 37 

should have a great deal of Sadie’s society, and 
that Mr. Bain should go up and preach the first 
Sunday, arrange a supply for the second, and the 
whole party should get to the Windermere on the 
following Saturday, prepared to attend the wed- 
ding ceremony, and to carry out such further 
programme as might be decided on. 

Wednesday evening Sam made his first call at 
Mrs. Cline’s, and had no reason to find fault with 
his reception. The tailor had fitted him to a 
nicety, and the sense of being well clad gave him 
an ease of manner that his fianch greatly appreci- 
ated. She was coquettishly tender. Alicia’s man- 
ner, in view of his great wealth, and a sense of 
generous regard for her cousin, was attentive and 
deferent. Mrs. Cline, who knew men and their 
weaknesses, won his admiration and confidence 
almost instantly. With her, indeed, he was sur- 
prised to find himself in a very short time feeling 
better acquainted than even with Sadie. And 
lastly, Arthur, whom he already knew quite well 
on account of his yearly visits to Birchstock, took 
him up to the den, where there could be a cigar 
lighted, with a glass of sherry to flavor it, or down 
to the club for dinner — sympathizing so warmly 
with his ideas and plans for seeing life, and sug- 
gesting so many of his own to the same purpose, 
that a bond of kinship was completely established 


138 THIRD HAND HIGH 

between them, malgi'e the difference of age. All 
of which, taken together, made Sam very well 
content. 

These experiences did not obliterate the recol- 
lection of the Dr. Brown he had met on the rail- 
way, or the wish to learn something more about 
his uncle, so strangely become his benefactor. It 
seemed an ingratitude to be ignorant of a relative 
who had spent his life amassing wealth that he 
might enjoy it, even if, as looked likely, this con- 
sideration had not entered into the old gentle- 
man’s calculations. But the days passed on, and 
no message came from the doctor. 

But this month of Sam’s horoscope was well 
charged with surprises. Entering the parlor as 
usual on Saturday evening, he at once recognized 
his quondam acquaintance, seated on the sofa in 
animated conversation with Mrs. Cline. At his 
entrance both rose. 

“ As I learn that you have met the doctor, Mr. 
Hawkins, I cannot have the pleasure of introdu- 
cing you. I will say, however, that he is one of 
my oldest and dearest friends.” 

You don’t tell ! ” Sam exclaimed in amazement. 
“Now, that’s lucky again; I was afraid I’d lost 
him.” 

“I must confess I got your address a day or 
two ago,” said the doctor. “ But I have been too 


A FRIEND OF THE FAMILY 1 39 

much engaged to call. I had no idea you were 
connected with Helen’s family, either, until half an 
hour since.” 

“ I must not trouble you now, if that is so,” 
Sam says, with an accent of regret. ‘‘ I suppose 
if we had carried out our plans as we made them, 
and gone back to-day, I couldn’t have met you.” 

“ No,” the doctor replied coolly. But I should 
have found you again, you may be sure. By the 
way, it was from me Smiles & Bailey learned 
that the Hawkins heirs were to be looked for in 
New Hampshire. They had been giving their 
attention wholly to Colorado, and were about to 
drop it as hopeless. So you owe me a pardon.” 

“It’s all-fired queer how a man of Uncle Jim’s 
property could live even in New York and nobody 
know anything about his affairs,” Sam said, frown- 
ing. “And he lived in New York first — before he 
went West, I mean — for he wrote to dad and gran- 
dad from there.” 

“Ah,” remarked the doctor. “What was he 
doing there then } ” 

“ He didn’t mention. But he was saving money, 
for he sent a lot home.” 

“ Did he mention whether he was a married 
man } ” This the doctor asked after a pause, and 
with some hesitation. 

“No,” Sam answered, apparently surprised; 


140 THIRD HAND HIGH 

‘‘he lived and died a bachelor, so far as I 
know,” 

“ Probably.” The doctor had evidently ven- 
tured the remark at random, for his tone was 
simply approval of the conclusion. He glanced 
now at Mrs. Cline, as if inviting a more general 
conversation. Sam was far from satisfied, how- 
ever. 

“ You haven’t said how you came to know 
about his relatives,” he suggested. 

“ Oh, I had known him professionally for 
some years. My first practice was in Denver. A 
man is very apt to get confidential with his 
doctor.” 

“ And you attended him also in New York ? ” 

“ No,” the doctor answered rather sharply. 
“ I had ceased general practice then, and was not 
even aware of his change of residence until a 
Denver correspondent sent me a newspaper with 
Smiles & Bailey’s advertisement for the heirs. I 
afterward learned incidentally, from conversation 
with Bailey, what you doubtless know, that he 
died of heart -failure, at his desk, brought on, no 
doubt, by excessive smoking. It was his one vice 
— physical vice, I mean.” 

“What kind of a man was he, doctor .J*” Sam 
asked bluntly. “ Was he a miser ? ” 

Dr. Brown’s forehead contracted, and his face 


A FRIEND OF THE FAMILY I4I 

seemed to flush. Mrs. Cline looked bored, and, 
rising, moved to the alcove window, partly with- 
drawing her figure behind the curtains. 

** I do not feel authorized to express my views 
regarding James Hawkins, even to his nephew,” 
was the rather cold reply. ‘‘Doubtless he was 
such as nature and circumstances made him. I 
can say, however, that he seemed incapable of 
trusting man or woman. And that will account 
for his isolation from his fellows.” 

“ But why did he care to make and save money } ” 
Sam persisted. “ He would not enjoy it, and he 
had nobody he cared for to leave it to. I can’t 
make him out.” 

“You are under no obligation to determine his 
motives. All men have them — rational or ir- 
rational. His life and labors have served you. 
Let that suffice.” 

There was an air of authority in this which Sam 
rather resented. But somehow the doctor com- 
manded respect and deference ; and in spite of his 
financial dignity and his natural combativeness 
he felt quelled. An exclamation from Mrs. Cline 
just then relieved the situation. She emerged 
from the curtains and came forward. 

“The young people — by which I mean Mr. 
Hawkins, Sadie, Allie, and Arthur — have taken a 
box to-night at the Hollis. And I see the carriage 


142 


THIRD HAND HIGH 


has come. You will find them in the back parlor, 
Mr. Hawkins. I’m afraid even your deceased 
relative would not excuse the crime of making 
those children lose the overture.” 

The doctor rose. 

beg pardon,” he said quickly. “You were 
going too, Helen } ” 

“ Naturally,” she answered with a laugh. “ But 
I am not in a hurry. So, if you’ll provide another 
cab, or take a car with me : you can be my escort.” 

“But ” — he answered, looking puzzled. 

“ I have told a wicked, wicked lie,” she con- 
fessed, seeing that Sam, too, looked embarrassed. 
“A cab won’t hold five people very well, will it.^ ” 

“ I’ll send another carriage,” says Sam instantly. 
“ Pray oblige us, doctor, and persuade Mrs. Cline 
to go.” 

*‘Merci!” she says, raising her hand. “ He is 
only a man, and does not know I could not dress 
in half an hour, and — I prefer a tete-d-tete with 
Dr. Brown, really. Now, don’t look so conceited, 
gentlemen. You are scenting no romance, I assure 
you. But time is flying. Adieiiy gentle swain ! ” 

“ If you really won’t ” — Sam says. 

“ I won’t, ‘ you may depend on’t.’ So stand 
not on the order of your going — vamos I ” 

“We shall meet again, I hope, doctor.?” Sam 
inquires, as he extends his hand. 


A FRIEND OF THE FAMILY I43 

“ I fancy so,” the other replied, with a look 
which Sam recalled later. Good-evening.” 

“Sebastian !” 

Mrs. Cline’s airy lightness vanished as Sam left 
the room, and she regarded him with a grave and 
anxious look that completely transformed her face. 
His own, contrarily, was smiling quite serenely. 

“ What would you, my Helen ? ” 

“ Such a tremendous sacrifice ! ” ^he exclaimed. 
“ No other man on earth could make it.” 

“The majority, I suppose, couldn’t afford to. 
I simply act on my convictions. That has been 
four rule of life also.” 

“ I have a woman’s soul, a woman’s conscience. 
But it is idle to argue with you. Shall you follow 
the girls to the theatre.? I see a restless demon 
in your eye.” 

“ It is fated, I suppose. At my age one should 
be able to resist real temptations, as well as hypo- 
thetical ones. But years seem only to intensify 
some follies.” 

Mrs. Cline laughed. “ Is that what you feared 
to tell me .? I have known it for — a longer time 
than yourself perhaps.” 

“And you are not ashamed of me.?” 

“ It makes me very happy, Sebastian. I know 
you, and I know Alicia. You were made for each 
other — trust me.” 


144 


THIRD HAND HIGH 


‘‘Rather out of season, it seems. I fear your 
generous heart makes you sanguine. But reason 
has ever an unequal battle with this thing called 
love. I foresee I am to make a foQl of myself 
again — a worse fool than ever, which is saying a 
great deal, isn’t it ? I am grateful for your sym- 
pathy, however.” 

“You have more than sympathy. You have my 
blessing. Trust me ; all shall be well.” 

“I have doubts, nevertheless. Your regard for 
me blinds you, Helen. But I think I shall put itj 
to the test.” 

Sadie and Alicia slept together. As a rule, 
being healthy girls, they were not given to much 
physical demonstrativeness. But to-night Sadie 
gathered her cousin into her arms with effusion. 

“ You sly kitten ! ” she whispered. “ Why 
didn’t you tell me you had a true lover ? ” 

It was dark, and Sadie could not see that the 
blood left Alicia’s skin. But she could feel a kind 
of cold wave pass over the ivory bosom under her 
arm. 

“ I have no lover,” she said. 

“ Not in the French sense, or the Spanish,” 
chuckled her cousin ; “ though he might be a 
Spaniard by the looks. But he’s in love with you, 
dear, and you’re in love with him ; though I believe 
he’s as old as Sam,” 


A FRIEND OF THE FAMILY 


145 


— it isn’t true!” gasped Alicia, endeavor- 
ing to free herself. Sadie was strong, however, 
and held her tight. 

I’ll bet there isn’t a year’s difference,” she in- 
sisted. “ But, anyhow, you love him, and you 
can’t deny it.” 

“ I do deny it I ” Alicia burst out, with passion- 
ate vehemence. “ And he doesn’t care for me. 
I know it ! If you say such things to me, Sadie 
Bain, I shall hate you ! ” 

Oh, dear I ” Sadie removed her arm and re- 
treated, grieved and offended, yet unconvinced. 

If you don’t want my sympathy, you needn’t 
have it, of course.” 

There was a moment’s silence. Then Alicia 
seemed to recover her self-control, and her hand 
sought her cousin’s gently. 

‘‘You are mistaken,” she repeated, “and you 
don’t know ; that is all. But I don’t mind telling 
you, now — only you must hold it in strict confi- 
dence. I have known Dr. Brown as a friend of 
mamma’s, for — oh, ever since I was ten years 
old. And he is kind to me, and to Arthur, because 
he has always wished . to marry mamma. I — I 
overheard him speaking to her — once.” 

“ Humph I ” Sadie responded, rather taken aback 
by this disclosure. “I wonder, then, why she 
didn^t accept him ? ” 


146 


THIRD HAND HIGH 


“ I don’t know,” Alicia answered, with a tinge 
of sadness. “ It — may happen yet.” 

Sadie pondered for a while. Then she turned 
over again, and this time Alicia did not repulse 
her caress. Women have a kind of wisdom which 
enables them to recover the hidden gold of silence. 


SECOND HAND — ACCORDING TO HOYLE LOW I4/ 


CHAPTER XVIII 

SECOND HAND ACCORDING TO HOYLE LOW 

The course of true love has now run smoothly 
in two notable instances. Mrs. Maclean sprung 
her surprise upon her neighbors with all the 
success and triumph she could desire. And for- 
tunately, it being early in the season, she was 
not called upon to make at once such a display of 
her wardrobe as must eventually be demanded in 
her new position, or to realize its full business 
weight. She had time to prepare the one, and 
get used to the other. Exception might be taken, 
of course, to the incident of the following week, 
when Sam and his party came to stay over Sun- 
day and have wedding. In spite of her own 
exaltation, it was a cross to reflect that her social 
value was still infinitely below that of the girl who 
had displaced her in Sam Hawkins’s regard. She 
received the hearty congratulations of the minis- 
ter and his wife with dignity ; but when Sadie 
courteously held out a hand, she could not take 
it, but turned away, as if she had not seen it. 


148 


THIRD HAND HIGH 


Sadie felt rather amused, and perhaps did not 
take the trouble to conceal it. At any rate, she 
made no more advances, and Satan readjusted 
firmly upon M’rier’s nose the glasses of jealousy. 
M’rier knew it was wicked to hate people. Yet 
she hated Sadie with all her heart. 

Mr. Maclean was always on the best of terms 
with his patrons, knowing well how to mingle 
deference and dignity with the bonhomie of good 
fellowship. He did not overdo things at all with 
his present distinguished guests. Perhaps, if he 
did not entertain many millionaires in New 
Hampshire, he did in Florida. Anyhow, he had 
always been on good terms with Sam ; and his 
demeanor toward him was only different from 
that of the past in being more confidential and 
sympathetic — which was to be expected of a man 
who was happy in newness of wedded life toward 
a friend who expected immediately to taste the 
same blisses. And Sam accepted it with pleasure, 
all the more keen that he had felt some compunc: 
tions over his conduct toward M’rier, however 
necessary and justifiable. It was a pleasure to 
know that she had not mourned over him too 
seriously ; while the belief that she had really 
preferred him to Maclean disposed him to be 
specially amiable to that person. 

A shrewd detective, however, had such an in- 


SECOND HAND — ACCORDING TO HOYLE — LOW I49 

dividual been on the scene, might have noted that 
the crafty lines on the landlord’s face deepened 
more than usual when it was turned from the 
guests ; and that something very like a sneer 
played over it when Sam spoke of his plans for 
summer travel and city residence. It was the 
more noticeable, that nothing similar marked his 
attentions to the others of the party. To Mr. 
Bain he was almost reverent. To Arthur, who 
was enthusiastic about the scenery, the horses, 
the ponds, and the fishing, he seemed to take like 
a kitten to a canary. The ladies received his best 
homage. Could it be possible that he was just 
a trifle jealous about M’rier ? 

But the party only remained at the Windermere 
for a night. At ten, sharp, the vehicles were ready 
to carry them to church. At twelve the bridal 
party, still in their travelling costume, stood before 
the pulpit, and under the eyes of all Birchstock, 
which had largely missed the event of the pre- 
vious Sunday, Sam and Sadie were pronounced 
husband and wife. And then two carriages, lux- 
uriously upholstered, and drawn by milk-white 
horses, drew up to the entrance ; and followed 
by the good words, if not the perfect hearts, of 
all the witnesses, the bridal party drove away 
toward the distant purple hills. 

The very next day — Monday — Mr. Maclean 


THIRD HAND HIGH 


150 

was in S , consulting a lawyer. A document 

was in question. It caused much conversation, 
consultation of precedents, the advancing of a 
goodly sum as retaining-fee. What Eben got out 
of it was substantially this : — 

A will must be offered for probate within a 
limited time. In certain cases, however, it lies 
with the court to extend that time. Undoubtedly, 
in a case where the witnesses are still living, and 
full, unquestionable proof can be given of its 
validity, and of mental soundness of the testator, 
a will must hold against other claims. 

“ Such an instrument, conveying in terms all 
real and personal property of the testator, though 
not specifically describing the same, would carry 
all and several such property, including even a 
legacy or inheritance falling to the testator, of 
which he was not in actual possession, or of which 
he did not even know, at the time of executing 
the said will, or at the time of his death. 

'‘A wife cannot devise, or otherwise alienate, 
her husband’s equity in her real or personal estate, 
without his consent.” 

Eben Maclean got back to the Windermere at 
10.30 P.M. He had a hard day’s driving; but he 
seemed fresh as a rose, and full of spirits. His 
wife came out to meet him, and, with unusual care- 
lessness of the proprieties, he put his arm round 


SECOND HAND — ACCORDING TO HOYLE — LOW 151 

her, and kissed her lips with a smack. She re- 
pulsed him a little. 

“ Land alive ! how you do behave ! You must 
have had a pretty good day below ! ” 

‘‘That I have, M’rier! A day to celebrate, I 
can tell you ! How would you like to own a big, 
first-class, city hotel, M’rier .? Not a three or four 
months’ affair, that keeps you fretting over the 
season and the weather, and has to be packed and 
unpacked every year, at no end of trouble and 
risk, but a solid, bang-up, all-the-year-round shop, 
like — were you ever in Boston or New York, 
M’rier .? ” 

“ No ! ” she answered. 

“Then, of course, you don’t know. Tell you 
what ! We’ll go down next week. I want you to 
see what I mean.” 

“ But who’ll run the Windermere, Eben 

“Damn the Windermere ! It don’t count now. 
We’ll let it to some fellow that needs it.” 

“ You must have struck a mine ! ” she ex- 
claimed, but with a painful doubt. And then, 
asserting herself for the first time since her mar- 
riage, she added, “You’d better tell me the whole 
story. A man with a wife has no business to ” — 
but here she was stopped by perceiving that her 
husband was almost choked with laughter. 

“ You guessed it the first time — mine ! That’s 


152 


THIRD HAND HIGH 


the idea ! And don’t you believe I mean to get 
along without my wife’s help. But we’ll let the 
house run itself for a few days — sure ! You must 
see my idea. Then I’ll tell you how I can realize 
it, and you wear your diamonds. But I’m hun- 
gry as a wolf ! ” 

Supper’s waiting,” she answered, glad of a 
chance to change the scene, which somehow 
oppressed her. She feared her husband had been 
drinking, and the suggestion of food was happy. 
But, all the same, she pondered upon his words. 
Was it possible that, at some not distant day, her 
position was to be equal to that of the girl she 
hated.? Eben Maclean was a man who rarely 
boasted in vain. 


AT THE PROFILE 


153 


CHAPTER XIX 

AT THE PROFILE 

Sam had served three years in the army. It 
was a tough experience, and at the time seemed 
especially bitter because it swept away his last 
hope of being able to leave the farm and seek a 
more promising road to fortune. He had little 
military taste, and had he not, through the favor 
of his captain, been assigned to the engineers, 
might never have worn the chevrons. But he 
managed to escape bullets and miasma, and to 
return home just in season to prevent the fore- 
closure of the mortgage on the farm, which he 
supposed his bounty-money had provided for, and 
to save his mother from the poorhouse. 

But, without his knowing it, the service had 
broadened and deepened his manhood, and fitted 
him for association with his fellow men. The 
self-centred nature he inherited, as a family trait, 
and which his home-life had tended to confirm, 
was broken down in the forced comradeship of 
camp and field. He learned how much of the 


154 


THIRD HAND HIGH 


heroic and lovable lies hidden in even the roughest 
and most hardened specimens of his kind. He 
learned to believe in men. He had before passed 
with his neighbors for a surly, unsocial chump. 
From this time they began to like him, to perceive 
his values, and to find uses for them. 

In his present position as one of the world’s 
princes, — for a man with a million at disposal can 
be accounted nothing less, — he must of necessity 
reap a still richer harvest from the discipline of 
those years. Noblesse oblige is an immutable law. 
The man of power or wealth who is not nobler 
than his servants — the rank and file of men — is 
contemptible. Of course Sam does not consider 
this yet. But he is able to feel and to manifest 
a true, healthy interest in the people he meets, 
and to merit their respect by deferring to their 
comfort in those little matters which make up the 
courtesies of life. Social training is essential, 
doubtless, to effect the tact which enables one to 
do this with uniform success. But if the disposi- 
tion be manifest, people of sense and good taste 
will perceive the essential quality of good breeding. 
Sam’s manners were not discounted among the 
people he met in his new sphere of life. Men 
and women of character respected him for his 
worth — the rest, for his money. 

There was one person who thought it necessary 


AT THE PROFILE 


155 


to correct his speech, dress, manners, and ways 
pretty constantly, all the same. This is, possibly, 
not an uncommon experience with married men ; 
and Sam certainly bore it with astonishing meek- 
ness, considering his natural sensitiveness, and 
consciousness of general acceptance elsewhere. 
No doubt it had a great deal to do with his rapid 
social progress — it kept him humble. 

And it is doubtful if a happier bridal party often 
visits the grim old Face of the mountain, or sounds 
the horn over the Lake of Echoes. It was early 
in the season ; there were few guests except season- 
boarders — people who came regularly every year, 
and made the place a summer home. They were, 
of course, people of means, but not people inter- 
ested in what is called the swim — which intends 
the whirl of fashionable life ; — people domestic in 
their tastes, with respect for moral values. The 
Parkers, the Watermans, the Mundies — id omne 
genus — struck Sam as the pleasantest and most 
congenial ''folks” he ever met. And they had 
such accomplishments! — instrumental and vocal 
music, artistic sketching, readings, tableaux, ten- 
nis, and athletics — they were never at a loss for 
pleasurable occupation. And they were so willing 
to share their pleasures ! so interested in the 
bride, the lovely Alicia, the merry and charming 
Aunt Helen I It was good to be there, 


156 


THIRD HAND HIGH 


Nevertheless, it was decided, during the second 
week, to go on to the beach. It was Mrs. Cline’s 
yearly custom. Sam and Sadie had seen mountains 
all their lives ; a change would be acceptable. 
Mr. Bain had a strong desire to renew the expe- 
riences of his youth with a sailboat. Perhaps 
Molly — Mrs. Bain — alone, would have preferred 
to stay, as she was only a day’s drive from her 
green corn and early pease. But a minister’s wife 
soon learns to dispense with her own preferences. 
It was a help, no doubt, to reflect that the nest 
would seem lonely with Sadie married ; and that, 
now papa had money, there was much uncertainty 
who would eat the fruit of her labors. 

“ Dr. Brown writes that he will try to spend a 
few days with us — off and on, as he phrases it — 
at the beach,” remarked Mrs. Cline, as they sat on 
the broad piazza, on the last evening of their stay. 
“ I hope he will find it possible. He needs the 
relaxation.” 

“That will be nice. I like Dr. Brown; he is 
one of the most finished gentlemen I ever met.” 
Sadie was thinking of Alicia. But Sam sighed. 
It struck him that he couldn’t resemble Dr. 
Brown much if he tried. 

“ I like him myself,” he said, fancying he ought 
to answer. “ I wish I could be as sure he takes 
to me.” 


AT THE PROFILE 


157 


Why shouldn’t he ? ” Helen asks quickly. 
“ You may take my word for it, he is very much 
your friend.” 

“That settles it, of course.” At the same 
time he feels reasonably confident that Brown 
wouldn’t miss him if he was in Europe. But, for 
some reason, Helen seems anxious to convince 
him. 

“ You have met Sebastian under a disadvantage, 
rather, as yet,” she continues. “ He is a very 
busy man, anyway, and just now has more than 
usual to think about. Few men have a benevo- 
lence so broad, a heart so tender and true.” 

“ I beg pardon,” chimes in another voice just 
here. “ Are you speaking of my friend, Sebastian 
Brown of New York ? ” 

Mr. Watts Mundie happened to be finishing his 
evening cigar within earshot, and, it would seem, 
was on terms of tolerably easy familiarity with our 
party. 

“ Specialist f ” corrects Sam. “ That’s the man.” 

“ Exactly. I suppose I’m obliged to him for the 
pleasure of knowing the present agreeable com- 
pany. Under Heaven, as the Elder would say, he 
certainly saved my life.” 

“ Indeed ! ” the ladies exclaim in chorus. 

“ What was the trouble ” Mr. Bain inquires. 

“ Brain-fever. Wouldn’t think I was liable to 
anything serious in that way, would you ? ” 


158 


THIRD HAND HIGH 


“Don’t let our silence distress you,” Helen 
answers. “ We are only wondering what you can 
mean.” 

“ Chickens have it, I believe,” Sam suggests. 
Whereat there is a laugh, of course. “ Is that his 
‘ specialty ’ ” 

“He isn’t a specialist in the ordinary sense,” 
Mr. Mundie rejoins, with a trace of surprise in his 
accent. “ Surely you know of his remarkable 
gift ? ” 

“ No,” says Sam. “ What do you mean ? ” 

“A kind of mesmeric, or, as it is now called 
more scientifically, ^hypnotic’ power. Never saw 
anything like it. Makes miracles seem reasonable.” 

“ I wasn’t aware,” Mr. Bain remarks, “ that 
mesmerism had attained any real therapeutic 
value.” 

“ Well, ‘ seeing’s believing, and feeling’s even 
more convincing,’ you know. I was in raving 
delirium, and suffering intolerable agonies. Lost 
my way in the crater of a volcano. Suddenly I 
felt myself caught up, whirled into light and air. 
‘ Sleep,’ said a voice, grave, calm, commanding. 
My horrors were dispelled in an instant, and per- 
fect rest — the most delicious rest I ever experi- 
enced — wafted me into unconsciousness. When 
I awoke, the fever was gone ; and I looked up into 
the kindly eyes of Dr. Brown,” 


AT THE PROFILE 


159 


Very graphically told,” Mr. Bain remarks, with 
a little shrug of impatience, perhaps incredulity. 

“ You took medicine, of course.? ” 

“ Not an atom. But Brown uses drugs when 
there is occasion.. All his own preparations, 
though.” 

“Is he a regularly educated physician .? ” 

“ Oh, yes ! He has his diploma.” 

“If he has remedies not known to the pro- 
fession, and of great value, why doesn’t he disclose 
them .? ” 

“ Do you know,” Mr. Mundie said with anima- 
tion, “ I had the impudence to ask him that very 
question. His answer was a curious one, — ‘ They 
are not accessible to the profession.’ ” 

Mr. Bain only grunted a comment upon this. 

“ His mother boasted a descent from the ancient 
Aztec priesthood,” Mrs. Cline remarked. “She 
was the repository of some curious secrets of 
nature, though she never displayed any special 
powers. She no doubt held them sacred to the 
scions of her race, and required her son to do so. 
He could never violate a promise given to her. 
He is not a self-seeking man at all.” 

“Nor a conceited one,” supplements Mundie. 
“ Apart from what is special to his own practice, 
he has studied most faithfully modern discoveries, 
and contributed not a little- to the literature of his 


i6o 


THIRD HAND HIGH 


profession. But what you tell me about his de- 
scent is interesting. I never hqard him refer to 
his parents. Was his father a man of note ? ” 

‘‘Of note.^ Yes — in a sense,” Helen replied 
slowly. “ But on that subject I have nothing to 
communicate, and I wouldn’t advise you to men- 
tion it to him. He has nothing to be ashamed of 
on either side,” she added, as if her words might 
be misconstrued. 

Alicia rose just then, and drew up the light 
burnous which had fallen from her shoulders. 
Mr. Mundie sprang to her assistance. 

“The air is getting a bit cool,” he said ; “and 
it is a witching hour for a promenade. May I 
offer my arm. Miss Cline ^ ” 

She hesitated. But two figures were approach- 
ing from the obscurity at the farther end of the 
piazza — figures which might belong to Phil Parks 
and Bob Waterman. 

“ I might,” she said, “ if you are sure it is safe 
to expose your convalescence to the night air.?” 

“ My convalescence .? ” he repeated. 

“Hm! You didn’t mention the date of your 
illness, did you .? ” 

“You are charmingly thoughtful. My illness 
wasn’t the consequence of mental strain or icy 
breezes,” he retorted. “ I was knocked down with 
a sandbag.” 


AT THE PROFILE 


l6l 


Alicia took his arm with a laugh. 

“That is ‘ another story.’ Suppose you tell me 
all about it ” 

Mr. Mundie was very willing. He rather liked 
to talk about himself — to Alicia. It seemed a 
direct road to — 

But he was dealing with no novice in the art of 
fencing. His confession had to be reached, after 
all, in the most awkward manner. But what young 
man will be warned ? 


THIRD HAND HIGH 


162 


CHAPTER XX 

AND SATAN CAME ALSO 

Besides the two weeks at the Profile, five other 
weeks have sped. The honeymoon is over, and 
something to spare. 

It may easily be seen that the conditions which 
could make the first weeks of wedded life ideally 
sweet did not subsist with our friends Sam and 
Sadie. Marriage had indeed brought to both 
their heart’s most eager desire. The* man ob- 
tained physical possession of the mistress he 
adored ; the woman realized her utmost vision 
of wealth and consequence. But the first was 
marred by several vexatious disappointments ; the 
second, by loss of personal freedom, and a good 
deal of nervous irritation. The advantages, in 
either case, outweighed the drawbacks ; but all 
the same, the latter were annoying, and did not 
seem to become less so as the weeks wore on. 
Marriage can give little real happiness, except it 
be the fruit of a mutual passion. 

During this period it more than once occurred 


AND SATAN CAME ALSO 


63 


to Sam that he had been very foolish to tempt the 
girl he loved to marry him in such haste. It was 
well enough, as things were, to confess his own 
passion. But then, he should have waited, and 
wooed, until answering regard came to sanctify 
the union. Regrets of this sort usually follow 
selfish action, and also are usually vain. What 
remains is to make the best of consequences. 
But, of all consequences, a capricious young wife 
is sometimes the most perplexing. 

Love’s disappointments always develop jealousy. 
Sam’s reverence for his wife precluded that form 
which is the co-ordinate of mere lust, and sus- 
pects moral, if not physical, evil in the one be- 
loved. But jealousy is essentially transitive ; it 
must have its object. Sam fancied that his wife 
preferred almost anybody’s society to his. She 
would chatter by the hour to Zena, her maid (who 
had been sent for as soon as they were settled in 
their cottage), and was always full of interest and 
charm with her cousins, in general company, or in 
the whirl of amusements. She seemed to reserve 
all her tired and dull feelings for the hours she 
must spend with him. Now, if he had observed 
carefully and dispassionately, he must have dis- 
covered that her father and mother got their share 
of this treatment as well as himself. It was the 
natural behavior of a spoilt young person, who 


THIRD HAND HIGH 


164 

took the devotion of her own ” for granted, 
and exerted herself only when she had an object. 
She was — as yet unconsciously — manifesting, in 
her eager desire to enjoy her grand new life, all the 
selfishness her own and her parents’ past anxieties 
for her welfare had induced. But Sam, who was 
not a philosopher, but a lover, could not divine 
this. He brooded over it, and of course made it 
out rather worse than it was. Eventually he 
would, most foolishly of course, taunt her with it. 
He would arrive at a point where he must say out 
the bitterness of his soul. And Sadie would be 
sure to answer tartly that he was too old to be so 
“ spoony.” She didn’t feel like being bothered 
all the time. And she couldn’t see what fun 
there was in two people mooning away by them- 
selves. It might suit him ; for herself, she must 
confess she found it awfully tiresome. 

Stung by this horrible cruelty and ingratitude, 
Sam left for Boston, and stayed a whole week. 
On the fourth day of his absence he wrote her a 
letter, detailing his grievances, and offering to 
go to Mexico or California, and never trouble 
her any more. If she couldn’t love him, it was 
no use their torturing each other any longer. 
But he must always love heVy whatever happened, 
etc. 


AND SATAN CAME ALSO 


165 


Sadie’s reply : — 

My dear Hubby, — I have read all you took so much 
pains to write me after going off sulky and leaving me with- 
out a single line or word from you for almost a week. Guess 
you ?mist care a good deal for me, you have such a sweet 
way of showing it. All right, dear, go to Mexico if you want 
to. Drink three cups of strong coffee every morning, and 
smoke all the time, and you’ll be happy, no doubt. But re- 
member, it’s your own choice. Don’t tell them / sent you. 
I’m sure I don’t know what you mean by my “ hating ” you ; 
I don’t hate you ; I like you very well indeed — better than I 
thought I should, a great deal. If you happen to change 
your mind, and not go to Mexico, you might bring me up a 
case of champagne and some nice fruit, the rarest in the mar- 
ket, iTiind j I am going to have a little reception to-morrow 
evening. Shall you be here ? Answer soon. Love and 
kisses. 

WiFEY. 

It was about a week after this before they had 
a real tiff. Sam got sulky again, and Sadie sar- 
castic. They had been to a hop at one of the 
hotels, and it was three o’clock in the morning. 
They were too cross to speak ; and the wonder is 
why Sam didn’t sleep on a sofa, or out on the 
grass for that matter, rather than demean himself 
by occupying even the extreme edge of a nuptial 
couch so wretchedly imbittered. It was almost 
day before he closed his eyes. He was all the 
time thinking what a selfish, insolent, heartless 


THIRD HAND HIGH 


1 66 

girl he had blindly taken into his heart and life, 
and revolving schemes of separation, if not abso- 
lute divorce. He was aroused by a soft little hand 
climbing over his neck. He opened his eyes, to 
discover that Sadie was apparently in profound 
slumber, .and the action, of course, involuntary. 
Still, the impulse to return the caress was too 
strong to be resisted. Then the eyes opened, and 
closed again sleepily, while the lips sighed, and 
the tender curves of the beloved form yielded 
themselves to his passionate touch. This was all 
the apology she had to offer for her crimes against 
him. If he should make the mistake of ever 
mentioning it as a justification for his forgiveness, 
she would promptly assure him that he was quite 
mistaken ; she knew nothing, meant nothing, by 
it whatever; and for the rest — it only proved 
that she was always good to him, when he de- 
served it. 

The fact is, Sam had far greater reason to be 
satisfied and happy than he was aware. The 
chief trouble with the situation lay in his marry- 
ing out of his own generation ; by which is not 
intended a young woman merely, but a young 
woman with progressive ideas, who was ambitious 
to live up to the lights of her day. Conceive, if 
you can,, the vast difference between the blind 
surrender of our mothers’ marriage vows, “the 


AND SATAN CAME ALSO l6/ 

woman being given to the man to be a helpmeet 
to him,” and the well-instructed consideration with 
which the young woman of to-day accepts the de- 
votion of a husband ! Consider, further, that Sam 
had been educated chiefly in rural New Hamp- 
shire, and Sadie in Boston! At the same time, 
remember that the girls now are just as sweet, as 
loving, and as loyal as they used to be. They have 
studied marriage to an extent, and from a point of 
view, that would have horrified their mothers. 
They have become skilful anatomists of passion ; 
they have reduced love to a science. Never mind. 
They are still as modest, as religious, down m 
their hearts^ as of yore. They cannot escape 
their destiny of wifehood and motherhood if they 
would ; and while the law of nature remains, this 
ministry will keep them holy. It is their doctrine, 
for instance, that woman should love little, man 
much. But wait patiently, and see if they do not 
follow more consistently than yourself the rule 
of Him who said, ‘Ht is better to give than to 
receive.” 

Sam has all this to learn. In the meantime, he 
has received a letter, forwarded from the Profile 
House, that under any circumstances would be 
startling, but in view of his lack of confidence in 
his wife’s love is simply horrifying. 

He read it through hastily first, with a kind 


i68 


THIRD HAND HIGH 


of numb eagerness to grasp the whole story — 
the very worst of it. Then he shook himself 
together, and went over it again, piecemeal, re- 
flecting intensely upon every sentence. While 
yet occupied with it, he was roused by a touch 
upon his shoulder. He glanced up to see his 
wife’s eyes bent curiously upon the sheet. He 
instantly crushed it together, and thrust it into 
his pocket. 

“ What do you want ? ” he asked, almost 
roughly. 

I want to talk to you,” she said. Has any- 
thing happened ? Who was the letter from ? 
Mr. Bailey.?” 

“Mr. Bailey.? Nonsense! Not much! Only 
a lot of gossip from Gleason. What were you 
going to say .? ” 

“You remember that pretty Mrs. Vandeviere 
that we met a week ago at the musicale ? She 
called this afternoon. I like her immensely. 
She says the Redmon estate on Commonwealth 
Avenue is for sale. It’s a lovely property, Sam. 
Just the place we ought to have. What do you 
say about running down to look at it .? It would 
be a pity if somebody got in ahead of us.” 

“You feel pretty sure it would suit us, do you .? 
Ever seen it .? ” 

“I — well — I’m not exactly sure, of course. 


AND SATAN CAME ALSO 


169 


But from what she says I really think so. Any- 
how, we would enjoy the trip. We would go 
aloncy you know, and be all to ourselves for a 
couple of days. I’m tired of seeing and enter- 
taining people, and it would be a rest.” 

Sam would have opened his eyes at this a few 
moments ago, if nothing more. Now it seemed a 
very mockery of fate. She wanted to go away 
with him — to rest ! His lips curled scornfully 
under his mustache. To view a palace that he 
must give her in return for a little sweet behavior 
that would last until she had what she wanted ! 
How would it be if the news he had just received 
proved true ? If it should turn out that he was 
as poor, even poorer, than he had been two 
months ago.^ Then a thought struck him, so 
humorous that he laughed. Poor ? Not if he 
knew it ! He had a goodly sum in the bank. He 
could draw more ; and, long before they could 
rob him of his powers by law, he could put it 
where they would have trouble enough to find it. 
His mind was made up instantly. He could spare 
no time to dawdle round house-hunting. He must 
be up and doing. After he had got all he could, 
there might be time to consider the next thing. 

“ It will have to wait a week or so,” he said, 
with a decision quite new to Sadie’s experience of 
him. “The news I have just got will compel me 
to go to Birchstock at once.” 


THIRD HAND HIGH 


170 

To Birchstock ? I thought you had every- 
thing settled up there ! What is the matter? ” 

Nothing I could explain. It’s business.” 

*‘Oh! very well — of course it’s none of my 
business. I suppose papa will go down with me.” 

“ If you do go,” he said, “ you must not make 
any promises to purchase.” And in reply to her 
look of surprise, “ I guess you know a house 
such as you’re thinking of costs a fortune to buy, 
and another to run. I don’t know enough about 
the way my money is placed yet to engage the 
payment of such big sums. I shall see Bailey, 
maybe, before I get back, and know more. You 
must wait.” 

This seemed reasonable ; and Sadie took it 
with remarkably good grace. 

Shall you start to-morrow ? ” she asked. 

“I shall start to-day. Isn’t it most dinner- 
time ? ” 

^‘To-day!” 

As soon as I can. I want to get through with 
it. There is a train at six. If you’ll let me have 
dinner within half an hour. I’ll catch it.” 

“Very well. Shall I tell Alfred to get out the 
horses ? ” 

“ I can walk. But you’ll want them for a drive, 
won’t you ? ” 

“Yes — later. They can be walked around till 


AND SATAN CAME ALSO 


71 


we are ready. Alfred shall drive you over to the 
station.” 

And she went at once to make the necessary 
arrangements. Sam followed her with his eyes 
and a very audible sigh. Neither had an accent 
of gentleness. The mood he was in made even 
his love fierce. 


172 


THIRD HAND HIGH 


CHAPTER XXI, 

SAM COMMITS ASSAULT 

Eben Maclean cooled down a little from the 
ardor of his first intentions about leasing the 
Windermere, as a very little correspondence with 
his legal adviser convinced him that his claim to 
the Hawkins million would be subject to legal de- 
lays extending perhaps over months, if the present 
possessor, as was to be expected, chose to fight. 
Moreover, the matter would have to be settled 
in two different courts, and in two different States. 
The validity of the will was a matter to be proved 
in New Hampshire ; the effect of the will upon the 
Hawkins estate, in the city of New York. To 
simplify matters as much as possible, papers would 
be served on Smiles & Bailey, as Hawkins’s attor- 
neys, at once. 

However, Eben had actually taken his wife to 
Boston, to one of the large hotels. He gave her 
a considerable sum to purchase new gowns, and 
hired a good dressmaker to follow them to the 
Windermere and make them up. Besides, he 


SAM COMMITS ASSAULT 


173 


devoted himself to her pleasure, taking her to 
places of interest, and doing everything possible 
to implant in her mind that social emulation 
which is, in fact, the vice of most women. 

It is just possible he overdid it. If M’rier had 
had more time to consider these things, and to 
get accustomed to them, she might have risen to 
her opportunity. As it was, they bewildered and 
overpowered her self-confidence. She dared not 
say she was not pleased ; but in her heart she 
settled it that Boston was too much for her, and 
she would never live there if she could help it. 

They returned on the loth of August ; and, 
naturally, found that Aleck and his wife had 
proved but poor substitutes, and a host of matters 
of discipline or complaint were needing prompt 
adjustment. Eben’s first care was the books. 
And M’rier, after a general overhaul of the cham- 
bers, proceeded to kitchen, laundry, and dining- 
room, — the most important last, because it had to 
be kept open for late-arriving parties of guests. 
She was busily inspecting and arranging the linen 
at half-past nine, when she was surprised by hear- 
ing a familiar voice pronounce her name, — 

“ M’rier.” 

She turned ; and there, close to the kitchen door, 
with a switch in his hand, his pants tucked into 
his boots, stood Sam Hawkins. She was too 
surprised to speak. 


174 


THIRD HAND HIGH 


and call your husband if you’re afraid to 
answer me,” he said scornfully. “I’ll wait.” 

“Why should I be afraid of you — or any 
man.!*” she asked, seeing only a joke. “But for 
the land sake what brings you here.? ” 

“ I came to see fou,'' he says sternly. “ I want 
to know whether dad made a will, leaving to j/ot4 
everything that belonged to me f” 

“ What if he did .? ” she asked sharply. “ I 
don’t know as it’s anything now. But I’ve got it 
somewhere, if you want to see it.” 

“I e^o want to see it. And then, M’rier, as 
I’ve always believed you to be an honest woman, 
I want you to burn it up. You know as well as I 
do that my father had no right to will you or any- 
body else anything.” 

“ I never said he had ! ” she exclaimed. " “ Lord 
knows I only humored him to save nonsense. 
You didn’t have the bother of him from morning 
to night, Mr. Hawkins, and you don’t know. Men 
never do know what a woman goes through,” she 
added, soUo voce. “ But wait — I’ll get it.” 

She left the room, and hurried up the back 
staircase to the storeroom, where the trunk had 
been placed after removal of her clothing and 
valuables, the latter of which were in Eben’s safe 
now. She had the key in her pocket. M’rier 
had learned the use of a pocket, and she was 


SAM COMMITS ASSAULT 


175 


only delayed by having to unearth the trunk from 
a pile of other luggage and fixtures. This, to 
M’rier, was no insuperable obstacle. She got it 
out after a few minutes’ struggle. Then she had 
to go for a lamp, as the hall light did not enter 
the room sufficiently. 

Sam waited full fifteen minutes, at first with 
feelings somewhat mollified. M’rier’s way of 
taking it somehow suggested that she, at least, 
had no hand in the scheme against him. But as 
time passed, and she did not return, his brow con- 
tracted, and rage, bitterer than he had yet felt, came 
upon him. He was about to go in search of her 
when the kitchen-door opened and Eben came in. 

Hello ! ” exclaimed that worthy, paling visibly 
under Sam’s gaze. “ You heref'" 

Before Sam could answer, M’rier came in, and, 
seeing her husband, called out at once, — 

Have you got Sam’s father’s will in the safe ? 
I’ve hunted all over the house for the durned 
thing, and I’m just used up with this day’s 
doings.” 

“ No,” Maclean answered. It’s not in the 
safe. Guess it’s all right, though. It’s on file in 

the probate office at S .” 

Where,” she screamed. ‘^How did it get 
there } Have you been meddling with my things, 
Eben Maclean ? ” 


1^6 THIRD HAND HIGH 

** I guess I've some interest in that,” he 
chuckled. “You didn’t know that paper was 
worth a million, M’rier. But you married a man 
who knows how to protect his wife’s interests. 
And, if it’s all the same to you, Mr. Hawkins, I’d 
prefer to talk business in the office. The dining- 
room and the kitchen are the woman’s place ; I 
don’t mix up business and women.” 

M’rier was under the spell of silent amazement 
again. But Sam perceived at once the situation, 
and, hot with passion, sprang at Maclean. His 
birch withe cut across the man’s face like a flash, 
while he hissed but three pregnant words, — 

“ You infernal scamp ! ” 

Eben was a strong man, and no coward. He 
clinched his aggressor instantly. M’rier screamed ; 
but, impelled by her own masculinity of character 
and femininity of instinct at once, flew at Sam’s 
back. Under ordinary circumstances this would 
have made a bad combination to beat. But a 
kind of Berserker rage animated Sam. His quick- 
ness and force of action were electric. Both man 
and wife failed of their grip. And the next in- 
stant Eben’s massive jaw cracked under the fierce 
fist of his adversary, and he dropped to the floor 
like a log. Then Sam had gone, as he came, by 
the kitchen door. M’rier did not scream again. 
She only dropped down by her husband’s body 


SAM COMMITS ASSAULT I// 

with a low moan of distress, and raised his head 
into her lap. 

But the scene was soon invaded from several 
ways, and a babel of exclamations, questions, and 
directions fell upon her unheeding ears. In the 
midst of it she suddenly cried out, — 

“ Give me water ! quick ! He isn’t dead ! Get 
away, you people. This is oiir business. Mary ! 
John ! will you bring me a dipper of water } ” 

Here Eben opened his eyes, and made an effort 
to get up. 

“I — I’m all right,” he gasped. 

“ Lie still, Eben Maclean ! ” M’rier commanded. 

You’ll come to quicker if you don’t move. 
Here ! drink a little of this.” 

Give me a dram of whiskey, can’t you } ” he 
grumbled, swallowing a mouthful, and then push- 
ing away the dipper which Mary had procured at 
the kitchen sink. “ Don’t you know I’m dizzy ? 
sick to my stomach .? There’s a flask in my coat- 
pocket, in the office.” 

The whiskey was found, and he took that with 
evident relish. Then he sat up and held his jaw 
with a groan. 

“ Is it broke } ” he asked pitifully. I heard it 
crack. I’m certain.” 

If it ain’t, it ought to be ! ” M’rier answered, 
with a revulsion of feeling, now that she con- ^ 


78 


THIRD HAND HIGH 


sidered him out of danger. “ Ain’t there a doctor 
in the house ? ” 

A tall gentleman, with gold spectacles, had 
been looking over the heads of the crowd curi- 
ously. He now came forward. 

“I’m a medical man,” he said. “What has 
happened ? ” 

“No matter!” M’rier answered curtly. “Just 
see if his jaw’s broke, that’s all.” 

The doctor raised Eben’s head, and felt about 
his face with prodding fingers. The victim 
grunted painfully. 

“No bones broken — not even out of joint,” 
was the verdict. “ Who hit him } ” 

“Sam Hawkins,” Eben answered, before M’rier 
could interpose. “ Where is he .? ” 

“ Hawkins ? Not the man with the million ” 
inquired another spectator. 

“That’s the man!” Eben answered. “Is he 
about the house ? ” 

“ He’s gone ! ” snapped M’rier. 

“ I’ll have it out of him, though ! Wait and 
see ! ” Eben exclaims viciously. “ Now, will you 
please excuse me, gentlemen .? I guess I’ll be all 
right to-morrow. Sorry anything like this should 
happen. Man must be mad to come and attack 
me in my own house! No cause — only a law- 
suit. Henry! help me up ! I’ll just shut up the 


SAM COMMITS ASSAULT 1 79 

safe and get to bed. All right to-morrow, gentle- 
men ! ” 

* * * 

“ Hawkins ” 

Did anybody see him come ? ” 

“Which way did he go ? ” 

“Appeals to the argumentum ad hominenty eh V' 
“ Will be in for damages, I fancy ! ” 

“ Expensive amusement, this ! ” 

And so on. Thus commented those who left 
the dining-room, and those who now heard what 
had occurred ; while many of them envied Eben 
his aching jaw, in view of the financial and social 
distinction of having been assaulted in his own 
castle by a millionaire. 


i8o 


THIRD HAND HIGH 


CHAPTER XXII 

FIRE AND WATER 

“ All right to-morrow, gentlemen ! ” 

This had been Eben’s assurance to his guests 
in the evening. But who can prophesy of the 
morrow ? ” 

At midnight the hotel was silent, and its deni- 
zens, guest and helper, servant and master, slept 
alike, it is to be hoped, the sleep of the just. 
And as the small hours crept on toward the dawn, 
deeper and more silent grew the hush of sur- 
rounding nature. The beaded dew gathered upon 
bark, rock, leaf, grass-blade, and the painted rails 
of the piazzas ; and a slow white veil of mist 
crept down from the hills, and filled the moonlit 
hollows of field and road. 

At three o’clock an interruption came from the 
barn, just behind the hotel. There was at first a 
grunting of pigs. Then the whining of a horse. 
Then a man’s figure climbed hastily out of a back 
stable-window, and made across the road and up 
the hill into the woods. 


FIRE AND WATER 


l8l 

Then a smell of smoke — more equine cries 
— a puff of light within the barn. Somebody 
opened a window now in the upper story of the 
hotel, and leaned out. The stables were certainly 
in an uproar ; and what was the cloud that seemed 
to leak up from every shingle of the broad roof ? 
It took him only a minute to decide. Then he 
sprang for his clothes, hurried them on in silence, 
seized a small trunk, shouldered it, and rushed 
out into the hall, crying, — 

** Fire ! The barn's on fire ! The barns on 
fire ! ” 

Evidently a thoughtful, considerate person ! 
Had he given the alarm before he secured the 
safety of his own person and effects, he might 
have been a sufferer. Had he merely cried 
^‘Fire!" it must have caused unnecessary panic. 
Now the exact situation was proclaimed to all who 
heard. ‘‘ The bants on fire !" 

This was Bert Adams, the hostler. And, to do 
him justice, he forthwith did all he could to save 
the horses, as well as to warn the inmates of the 
house. 

But, in spite of the precautions he had taken, 
there was terrible uproar and confusion in the 
hotel. It was a three-story structure of wood, 
L-shaped, with double piazzas along the front and 
side, and the barn slightly entering the inner 


THIRD HAND HIGH 


182 

angle at the rear. Few of the back rooms were 
occupied, for the rush season was not yet. The 
people whose rooms opened on the piazzas were 
comparatively safe. But only those who have expe- 
rienced that terrible cry of “ Fire ! ” in the moment 
of slumber and security, can know its terrors. 

Eben and M’rier both slept soundly, and were 
far from the first to hear the alarm. When they 
did hear, and understand, they were as nearly 
equal to the occasion as possible. But there was 
no provision on the premises for such an emer- 
gency. The barn was already a furnace inside, 
having some forty tons of hay in store. Only 
three horses had been rescued. The others were 
screaming wildly in the agonies of terror and 
death. There was no wind ; but the fire could not 
burn where it was, and the hotel escape, unless 
water, and floods of it, could be used. 

That was out of the question. 

All that could be done was to rescue movable 
property and effects. 

The gray dawn broke upon Eben’s guests 
huddled in blankets and piles of baggage over the 
tennis-ground, while before them blazed the charred 
remains of the Windermere House. 

Sam left the Windermere in that state of col- 
lapse which traditionally follows the battle-fury of 


FIRE AND WATER 1 83 

heroes. But in his case the reaction was chiefly 
of moral energy. 

His visit had been determined by the impossi- 
bility of reconciling to his previous knowledge of 
MVier a move so audacious and palpably dishonest 
as this claim under a will made by his father. 
And yet he had been confronted with the fact 
that she really held such a document, and never 
even let him know it all these months. It was 
true she had for a moment persuaded him that it 
was without her consent, or even her knowledge, 
that a claim had been made under it. But he 
had declined to marry her, and had bestowed his 
fortune upon Sadie, M’rier’s particul^ aversion. 
She had married Eben Maclean immediately after- 
ward. As to the first circumstance, he knew 
she must feel bitterly. As to the second, Eben 
Maclean had never even noticed her, much less 
paid her attentions ; he must have been very sud- 
denly and strongly influenced. 

Anyhow, they had the will. His poor, weak, 
shiftless, tricky old dad had made it, — to blanket 
his self-esteem, or for some other selfish reason, — 
and M’rier had let him, and had concealed the 
matter, as had her friends the Macleans. Prob- 
ably because she expected she might want him 
for a husband. Eben had taken the document 
to the probate office. He was going to push 


184 


THIRD HAND HIGH 


it. He knew what it was worth to him before 
he acted. Either M’rier was behind him, or 
he could do without her — it made very little 
difference. 

Riding along at the mare’s easy pace, Sam 
thought out all this, and then came to the — what 
follows ? 

Law, first, — processes, briefs, rejoinders, and 
motions, and what not. A cause cdkbre for the 
newspapers. How long all this might delay the 
inevitable he could only guess ; what defence Mr. 
Bailey might make he had no idea. And the 
lawyer’s bills, and the costs of court — would 
they be paid out of the estate ? Would his source 
of income be enjoined ? Eben had considered 
these points, he felt sure. He was well posted. 

The conclusion was that he ought to see Mr. 
Bailey at once. If there was no chance of winning 
at law, he ought to know it ; that is, if his father’s 
will in favor of an alien really cozild disinherit him. 
There might be time to take other measures for 
self-protection. 

And he nmst protect Sadie. She had married 
him — he did not conceal it from his heart now — 
because she was willing to exchange her favor for 
position and wealth. There was no question of 
love. And she had acted squarely by him, and 
tried to be a good and happy wife. She would 


FIRE AND WATER 


185 

probably keep on trying, happen what might. 
Good women usually do. But he felt he eould 
never aeeept her duty if he eould not reward it 
with something like what she had estimated a 
quid pro quo — in this partieular being far humbler 
than most men, who regard the mere fact of 
possessing a woman quite identieal with the 
right. 

Y es ; he would go straight to Mr. Bailey. 

While Sam was pondering, nevertheless, his 
horse, influenced by the Lord knows what ancient 
association, and also favored by the darkness, had 
turned down an old road where once the town 
had maintained highway and bridge. This led 
directly to the river. And Sam was therefore 
not a little surprised to find himself on its bank, 
listening to the roar of waters, when he supposed 
he was travelling quite another way. Being to 
the manner born, however, it did not take long 
to get, as a sailor would say, his bearings. 

Now, one of Sam’s peculiarities — and this con- 
firms what has been already said about his lack of 
military faculty — was total inaptitude for con- 
ceiving, much less executing, what is known as 
^‘ masterly retreat.” Repentance, in the sense of 
‘‘ turning again,” was not in him. What he could 
have determined upon in the present case, had he 
not known about the ford, remains conjectural 


186 


THIRD HAND HIGH 


What he did, with the knowledge in view, was 
just the thing to be expected of him. 

But the mare’s experience probably related to 
the missing bridge. She did not like the ford, 
and strove all she could to express it. But if she 
was afraid of the river, she was more afraid of 
Sam. A brief argument proved the man to be 
master, and she yielded. 

For two-thirds of the distance all went well 
enough. The water was not above her knees. 
Just as she was regaining her confidence, she 
made a misstep, and, losing both caution and cour- 
age at once, made a plunge for the shore. It was 
a blind move. The next moment Sam and his 
steed were separated, and both more literally than 
pleasantly “ in the swim.” 

In such a case the animal instinct is superior to 
man’s reason, to say nothing about the difference 
in eyes. The horse got to land first ; and, having 
her liberty, and perhaps a sense of wrongs un- 
avenged, she did not wait events, but started up 
the road at a gallop. So that when Sam, hatless 
and soaked, staggered ashore, she was out of sight 
and hearing, and he had nothing to do but to fol- 
low as best he might, afoot. 

Why he did not, after regaining the travelled 
highway, stop at the first house, have his garments 
hung out to dry, and proceed in an orderly way 


FIRE AND WATER 


187 


either to recover his horse, or to hire a conveyance 

to S , would require more explaining than is 

needful to our purpose. This same old road 
wound its way over the hills toward Bristol. Sam 
decided to keep it. 


i88 


THIRD HAND HIGH 


CHAPTER XXIII 

NO FUNDS 

North Birchstock was only a mile in a direct 
line across the meadows and the river from the 
Windermere ; and, as we know, possessed a stage- 
line and Post-office. But it did not possess those 
useful adjuncts to communication with the world 
at large, telegraph and telephone. At eleven a.m., 

and not before, the news reached S that the 

Windermere House had burned. The matter was 
sufficiently important to create quite a sensation 
in that thriving village. Several people were 
directly interested. The butcher had lost a good 
customer. The stores would miss some trade. 
Builders saw a contract ahead. But the man most 
deeply concerned was Mr. Sommers. 

Because everybody — Mr. Sommers excepted — 
took it as a matter of course that Eben Maclean 
was duly insured, and that the Windermere would 
be rebuilt. Mr. Sommers alone knew that Eben 
was in a bad fix. 

It was unlike Maclean to be careless in matters 


NO FUNDS 


189 


of moment. But his policy had expired ; and the 
agent — a brother-in-law of Sommers’s, by the 
way — had declined to renew at old rates, inspec- 
tion having developed the fact that no adequate 
protection against fire existed on the premises. 
Maclean promised to provide such protection, and, 
in the meantime (after some bluffing), to pay 
extra-risk premiums. So a new policy was pre- 
pared ; and Eben, passing through the previous 
day, gave a check for payment. But his account 
happened to be overdrawn, as Aleck had not de- 
posited during his absence ; and Sommers, instead 
of paying the check, merely agreed to hold it for 
funds expected by the stage on this day. As 
Eben’s funds were in the safe, and the safe in 
the fire at seven a.m., when the stage left North 
Birchstock, of course the funds did not arrive. 
If they had, it would have made no material dif- 
ference. The agent ought not then to pass over 
the policy, which Eben fully supposed was in Mr. 
Sommers’s hands, and now, practically, to his 
credit. 

For this supposition, however, Sommers was 
innocent. He had met Mr. Hawkins at the liv- 
ery-stables last evening, where he had gone to get 
his team to drive his family out, as usual ; and, 
learning that he was going to the Windermere on 
horseback, had asked him to take a note to Eben. 


THIRD HAND HIGH 


190 

Sam could hardly refuse, though he didn’t care to 
do Maclean any favors. The note was, as a mat- 
ter of courtesy, unsealed. Sam did not notice the 
courtesy, because he wasn’t in the mood. More- 
over, he forgot all about it, and didn’t deliver it. 

Now, if Sommers had not written that note, 
and placed it in an unsealed envelope, probably he 
would have arranged with his brother-in-law to 
consider the policy delivered, and the check good, 
to save Maclean, who was a fairly decent cus- 
tomer, and, anyhow, a neighbor. But, under all 
the circumstances, this could hardly be done. He 
was profoundly sorry he had not paid the check. 
It would have been safe enough, and Maclean 
would certainly complain of harsh treatment. 
Still, it was strictly business. Maclean ought to 
have protected himself better. 

Reasoning, regret, and self-excusing did not, 
however, blind him to the prospect that his next 
meeting with Eben must be very unpleasant. 
And this view probably took him to the hotel, to 
see if Hawkins was registered. Finding he was 
not, he went a little farther, to the stables, to in- 
quire whether he had returned his horse. He 
had not. So, if he had any hopes still of altering 
the situation, he gave them up. Things must 
take their course. He hurried back to the bank, 
where duty called him. He found his brother-in- 


NO FUNDS 


91 


law behind the gratings, chatting with Mr. Jaquith, 
the book-keeper, his only assistant. 

“ Look here,” that gentleman said, taking him 
at once into a private office, and speaking low, 
“this is too hard on Eben. We must see him 
through.” 

“ It’s too late,” the cashier answered shortly. 

“Why ? ” urged the other. “ Nobody need ever 
know the facts but you and me. We can afford 
to trust each other, can’t we 

“Eben knows them. I sent him a note last 
night to hurry up funds. I sent it by Sam Haw- 
kins.” 

“Humph ! that settles it, then.” 

Both men sighed. 

“An open note,” continued Mr. Sommers, 
merely wishing to relieve the silence by saying 
something. “ Even supposing we were willing to 
collude with him, — and that he has kept his mouth 
shut, — Hawkins might have lost it, or have de- 
livered it to the wife. Too much risk, Charlie — 
too much risk.” 

“ Ruins him, don’t it ? ” 

“Hm! I fear so. He is pretty clear of debt, 
though — had paid off his mortgages. He’s too 
smart not to recover. But it will be a hard blow.” 

“ Mr. Sommers ! ” 

It was Jaquith’s voice. The cashier stepped 


192 


THIRD HAND HIGH 


out. Benton, the stableman, stood at his win- 
dow. 

Thought Td let you know,” he said. “ Haw- 
kins’s horse has just come in, with a bad bruise on 
her shoulder. Mason had her behind his wagon. 
Says he found her grazin’ t’other side o’ Willow 
Run, an’ nobody near. Knowin’ the horse, he 
brought her along. She’s limpin’ bad.” 

“And no news of Hawkins ?” 

“ Not of his whereabouts. But Mason says he 
licked Maclean up at the Windermere last night 
afore the fire.” 

“ What do you mean ^ ” 

“That’s what’s said. I tell it as I got it. 
Knocked the spots out of him, and then left.” 

“ That’s remarkable ! ” exclaimed Sommers. 
“What do you suppose has happened ? ” 

“ More’n / know. Guess it’ll all come out later. 
J hope nothin’ ain’t happened to Hawkins. Looks 
to me like the horse might ’a’ got scared and 
throwed him, or took him off agin’ somethin’ in 
the dark. She’s a vicious critter when she’s 
scared. I wouldn’t ’a’ let her to most folks; but 
Sam’s an all-powerful good rider, an’ knows her. 
An’ there wa’n’t no other in the stable fit for 
such a trip.” 

“ Dear me ! Why don’t you send a man out to 
look the matter up ” 


NO FUNDS 


193 


Wall — I s’pose — now the horse is back, that 
might be anybody else’s business as much as mine. 
I km send, of course, if it’s wanted.” 

“ My dear man, don’t stand on expense. It’s 
a matter of humanity,” Mr. Sommers said, with a 
fine liberality — of reproof. 

Make it a V, then,” the other persisted coolly. 

That’s half what it’s worth.” 

I’ll pay two dollars toward it,” the cashier an- 
swered, with a little hesitation. “ You will doubt- 
less find him in some house near where the horse 
was.” 

Couldn’t say. Couldn’t agree on two dollars. 
But make it five, and I’ll find him if he’s to be 
found — square.” 

Mr. Sommers reflected that the investment 
might pay. It showed an interest which the mil- 
lionaire must appreciate. He took a five-dollar 
bill from his vest pocket, and extended it toward 
the man of horses. 

‘‘Good !” was the response. “I’ll just go my- 
self, an’ see it’s done accordin’ to contrack.” 

And he went. Mr. Sommers looked after him, 
and drew another sigh. 

“ Dear me ! this is too bad, really. I believe I 
ought to telegraph Mr. Bain. That’s best.” 


194 


THIRD HAND HIGH 


CHAPTER XXIV 

ALICIA S LOVER 


Alicia! ” 

The sun was just shaking himself clear of the 
light golden mist which curtained his rising out of 
the bosom of the slumbering ocean. It was the 
most unlikely hour for a young lady with Ameri- 
can habits to be found abroad — and more especi- 
ally on this rugged promontory of rocks, so far 
from hotels and cottages. It was here that the 
sea had found a leverage to force its encroaching 
waters into the shore-line, forming a channel that 
broadened out as it cleared the dunes, till, reach- 
ing the flats behind, a permanent reservoir re- 
sulted, in which small craft might be securely 
moored. 

But this morning the south wind blows too 
strong for the sandflies ; and our fair friend, who 
has been watching for just such an opportunity, 
and knows that Lot Brine will surely be cleaning 
up his boats, has given him an early call. She is 
an adept in canoe navigation ; the tide is nearly 


Alicia’s lover 


195 

up, and the light craft soon bears her to the cov- 
eted point of observation. 

This is not exactly at the summit of the rocks. 
It is a flat shelf, accessible enough, but sheltered 
from view except to the seaward. The long 
swells break upon its sheer face, and, behind, the 
clift rises yet some twenty feet. The patches of 
seaweed and drift over its floor and in the crevices 
above and below indicate that it would not be a 
safe place m a storm. 

Glorified in the ripe dawn she stands, her face 
flushed with exercise, her eyes flashing back the 
sunbeams, her perfect figure outlined through its 
drapery by the clinging touch of the wind. No 
wonder the beholder waits, ravished by the pic- 
ture, a full minute ere he ventures to make her 
aware of his intruding presence. 

She was naturally startled. Perhaps not less 
so when she realized who it was that had spoken. 
The warm blood forsook her cheeks an instant, 
only to return with a rush almost painful. She 
did not answer, but gazed at him with eyes speak- 
ing wonder and expectancy. 

“ 1 saw you from my window as you entered 
your boat,” he said, “and 1 knew I would find 
you here.”’ 

Still she did not speak. He stood with arms 
folded, leaning against the cliff, and smiling at her 
triumphantly. 


196 


THIRD HAND HIGH 


“ I have come to learn my fate. I love you. 
Has love come too late for hope, Alicia 

“ Too late ! ” she echoed slowly. “ Does love 
ever come too late .? Why not say, too often ? 
What is your love, what is any man’s love, in 
the balance against what he asks for it } Do you 
find me beautiful 1 So you have found other 
women. Do not tell me I am the first to hear all 
that love can teach your lips to utter.” 

“Why should 1.?” he answered, still smiling. 
“ Does It become you to condemn the law of 
nature in the soul complementary to your own, 
because you cannot apprehend its impulses, or 
conceive the philosophy of its emotions 

“Love has no philosophy,” she retorted hotly. 
“It IS not to be estimated by scientific analysis. 
It IS, like life, an elementary fire.” 

“The daughter of the dawn speaks well,” he 
murmured, as if communing with his own thoughts. 
“ She knows whereof she speaks. She loves.” 
And then, in response to her indignant eyes, 
turned full upon him, “ Love new-born, a feck 
less infant, not yet entered into reason and expe- 
rience. The crude vitalities are all elementary. 
But their design is organism and character. This 
IS the love Ouida reckons upon, when she affirms, 
‘Man loves the sex, woman the individual’ It is 
only a seeming. With woman, as with man, love 


Alicia’s lover 


197 


has its seed in the physical and spiritual develop- 
ment of sex. We are all potential lovers before 
love finds its object. Women, no less than men, 
love the ideal in their own souls. But it is their 
nature to wait for its revelation to the senses It 
IS ours to seek it." 

“And to find it everywhere," she added with 
fine scorn. 

“To find something of it, perhaps, because the 
search is eager and impatient, and will not brook 
delays. To accept, doubtless, through passion and 
ignorance, what must prove an illusion. Your 
intuition that I have always been sensitive to the 
beauty of women is true. I have loved — not 
often, yet with strong passion. But the burnt 
child dreads the fire, Alicia. Such love as 1 have 
felt I could not yield to again." 

“ Are you so sure of that ? Am I to reckon, 
then, that the second love with a man counts for 
more than the first, the third for more than the 
second, and so on down the scale of his multi- 
fold experiences, even to the present ? How natu- 
rally 1 must inquire. What shall come after ? " 

“ It is a just conclusion," he answered, gravely 
enough now, “ and I take no exception to it. I 
have no wish to delude you ; certainly no motive 
for deluding myself. I might not despair of lov- 
ing, and of being loved, if you refuse to trust your 


198 


THIRD HAND HIGH 


life to me. The agony might pass — perhaps 
must pass — without involving even a trace of the 
despair which has clouded at least one incident of 
my life. But why should you refuse me? Your 
heart pleads for me. Can you fear that my zvife 
will fail to command a devotion that not only 
eclipses, but includes, all that 1 have ever felt for 
other women? Then you have ill estimated me, 
and the moral hold of marriage upon a man who 
accepts its obligations with full knowledge of 
their sacredness." 

“You are a man of honor — that I cannot 
doubt,’* she said, with a glance of momentary 
brightness, “ But it is conceded, isn’t it, that 
love is not always promoted by the knowledge 
which marriage brings." 

“ There is a tree in the midst of every earthly 
Paradise," he replied, “ whereof we may eat to 
our cursing. It was the woman who tasted it 
first, Alicia. I will tell you the secret of happi- 
ness. Love is the flower, the fruit, the glory 
of life. But it does not attain its perfection with- 
out being carefully, and often painfully, tended. It 
is not an air-plant, though its seeds fly so wan- 
tonly, and often germinate in superficial soil. It 
will feed a while, but only a while, upon illusions. 
It must be transplanted to the very deepest 
places of our being; it must receive the sun of our 


ALICIA S LOVER 


199 


most holy aspirations, the persistent dew of our 
moral and mental evolution. Glorifying from the 
first not only our own personality, but infinitely 
more, our conception of the beloved, it must re- 
ceive our utmost faith, our complete self-surrender 
to its revealings. In a word, Alicia, love is a life 
to be lived, a heaven to be won. Marriage is but 
its wicket-gate. It should be entered only by 
those who can understandingly and with unalter- 
able resolution take the vow — ‘For better and 
for worse.’ ” 

She turned upon him suddenly, with a pale face 
and a strange defiance in her eyes. 

“You have said that you love me, you have 
said that I also love you. It may all be true. I 
have not wished to love you. Perhaps your strong 
will, and the occult power you are said to possess, 
have proved too much for my powers of resistance. 
Stop — I see the denial in your eyes — let it pass ! 
We stand here, mind to mind, heart to heart, soul 
to soul. Tell me — has your life been pure — 
from women ? ” 

“No. In my ignorance, and under the spur of 
passion, I have known pollution.” He spoke with 
indifference, though the words were unsparing 

“ Suppose I, too, have known it ? ” 

Startling as her question was, he looked into 
hei unblenching face with a smile. 


200 


THIRD HAND HIGH 


“You speak of my occult powers, but you have 
no idea what they are. If you had ever known, 
sinfully, another man, you could never stand here 
with your eyes upon mine to confess it. The 
light of absolute innocence beams from them.’' 

“ You are deceived,” she replied, almost pity- 
ingly. “If it is true — and I confess so much — 
that I have escaped physical defilement, it is only 
a matter of good fortune, not virtue. And I have 
not even the excuse of passion. I had deliber 
ately resolved upon living the life of a free woman, 
and to know the pleasures of what is called lovey 
without submission to its pains and its slavery.” 

“What has taught you to perceive the vileness 
of that resolution ?” 

Now her face fell, and the swift color dyed it to 
the roots of her hair. She did not answer. He 
moved to her side, and drew her into the embrace 
of his arm. 

“ It was lovey' he said triumphantly. “ Your 
intellect rebelled from what you believed to be the 
injustice of a woman’s lot. You could smother 
your conscience with casuistry, but not your 
heart. Let me tell you why you made this con- 
fession to me. You have been trying to justify 
7ne in your own mind ; to excuse what you could 
not justify, I am not, I cannot be worthy the 
adoration you wish to feel for me. You must 


Alicia’s lover 


201 


accept the higher moral plane which belongs to 
your womanhood. You must love me from above. 
And be sure of this. No woman can have real 
knowledge of evil without its complete experi- 
ence. No MAN can comprehend it until the holi- 
ness of wifehood and motherhood is revealed to 
him. Do you love me enough to make the sacri- 
fice, dearest ” 

For answer, she threw both her beautiful arms 
round his neck, and wept passionately. His own 
eyes moistened, and the risen sun looked into 
them, and saw a vow and a prayer. 


202 


THIRD HAND HIGH 


CHAPTER XXV 

TROUBLE 

Dr. Brown, I want to know what has hap- 
pened ! What are they keeping from me ? Why 
doesn’t my husband write ? ” 

Five days since Sam went away ; three since 
her father left for Birchstock. And to-night she 
had seen her mother trying to hide tears. 

It had dawned upon her by degrees that some- 
thing very important and unpleasant was happen- 
ing in connection with their affairs. She wondered 
what it could be that they thought it necessary 
to hide from her. Something to do with the 
property, of course. But why must she remain 
ignorant of what people much less interested 
knew ? She wasn’t a baby ! 

But she was in her way as peculiar as Sam. It 
was not, for instance, her way to ask direct ques- 
tions. It was like her to conceal her emotions 
under a studied air of indifference. But at last 
her mother’s tears, and continued disappointments 
at mail-time, fully aroused her. She caught a 


TROUBLE 


203 


glimpse of Brown’s figure from her front window, 
making, as usual, toward her aunt’s cottage. She 
ran out incontinently, and intercepted him. 

He passed his arm gently through hers, and led 
her back toward the house. 

“ Perhaps it is wrong not to tell you what we 
can, Mrs. Hawkins. But the trouble is, there is 
so little to tell, and things may be all right after 
all. Has your mother said nothing ? ” 

“ I have not asked her ! ” Sadie answered 
shortly, *Ht seems to me that in my own affairs 
I have rights which my friends ought to respect. 
I am not a child ! ” 

Pardon me, dear lady. My profession gives 
me the privilege of saying that a bride in her 
honeymoon is a proper subject for very tender 
consideration. I will, however, if you wish it, 
give you such information as I have.” 

There is some trouble about the property, 
isn’t there ^ ” she anticipated. 

“ Mr. Hawkins’s father made a will in favor 
of his housekeeper, conveying all his real and 
personal estate. He, no doubt, expected her to 
marry the son. But she did not. It seems that, 
unknown to himself, he was at the time of his 
death his brother James’s heir. His will carries 
with it, therefore, the property which your hus- 
band has present possession of, — James Haw- 
kins’s million.” 


204 


THIRD HAND HIGH 


The whole million ! ” exclaimed Sadie, aghast. 

“ Every cent of it.” 

“How is it,” she asked, after a pause of horror 
and amazement, “ that Mrs. Sponner did not claim 
it before } Doctor, that man, Maclean, is a 
villain. He has put this thing up ! It is a fraud ! 
a forgery ! ” 

“ Let us hope it may prove so ! ” he answered. 
But his tone had pity in it. 

“ Hope ” she echoed scornfully — “ hope ? 
Why, doctor, that old man hadn’t sense enough 
to give a bill of sale for a cow ! And he had no 
money to hire lawyers, even if he had anything 
' to will away. Don’t tell me there is anything 
serious in such a scheme as that. It’s just 
silly ! ” 

“ Yet one of the shrewdest lawyers in the State 
has undertaken the case,” the doctor answered. 
“ And even Mr. Bailey considers the claim a very 
serious one indeed.” 

“ Oh, yes ! all the lawyers would want to make 
the most of it, no doubt. Where is Mr. Haw- 
kins ? ” 

“ Hm ! ” The doctor hesitated, and was silent. 
Sadie faced him quickly. 

“ I asked, where is my husband .J*” she repeated. 
“ Do you know ? ” 

“Well,” he answered slowly, “that ts rather an 


TROUBLE 205 

important question. It seems he went directly 
from here to the Windermere House.” 

“The Windermere House? What is he doing 
there ? ” 

“ The Windermere House that was. He arrived 
there about ten at night. Then he had hot words 
with Maclean, and knocked him down. The same 
night somebody set the hotel on fire, and it was 
completely destroyed.” 

“ Destroyed ? Sam struck Maclean ? ” She 
hardly more than whispered the words. Then 
she made a gesture of impatience. “ The rest ! 
Tell me the rest ! ” 

“There is but little more to tell. It rumored 
that Maclean was not insured, and that Mr. Haw- 
kins knew it — was, in fact, one of the three per- 
sons who did know it. What adds to the mystery 
is, that the horse Hawkins rode came to the stable 
riderless and lame. That a hat, believed to be 
his, was picked up in the river near Birchstock 
Bridge, and that he himself has not been seen or 
heard from since he left the Windermere.” 

Dr. Brown had detailed all this in a manner 
amazingly terse. He was watching her curiously 
in the meantime. But he was totally unprepared 
for what she did. It was the last thing he ex- 
pected. She did not cry out. She simply dropped^ 
as if he had shot a bullet through her heart. 


206 


THIRD HAND HIGH 


He stooped quickly, and touched her pulse. 
Then, after a moment he rose, took a vial from a 
small case in his pocket, and wetting a corner of 
his handkerchief, held it to her nostrils. Almost 
at once she gasped, shuddered, and opened her 
eyes. Before she could realize her position, how- 
ever, he had raised her in his arms, and with 
singular ease, considering that she was a pretty 
substantial young woman, carried her up to the 
piazza steps, and placed her in her chair. Then, 
not waiting to see what further might occur, he 
calmly left her, and went on his way toward Mrs. 
Cline’s. 

“Rough medicine,” he muttered. “But iov her 
sake, for his sake, and for my- sake it was best. 
Now we shall see.” 

Perhaps half an hour later Sadie rose, and slowly, 
uncertainly, moved toward the door at the side of 
the house which opened into her mother’s room. 
Mrs. Bain was lying down on a couch, with her 
handkerchief thrown over her face ; and the lamp 
barely gave light enough to outline her figure. 
She was not asleep, for as Sadie entered she re- 
moved the covering. Without preliminary, Sadie 
kneeled down by her. 

“ Mamma,” she said, “ is it true ? Is my husband 
dead? ” 

“ My child, I do not believe so. They must 


TROUBLE 


207 


have found him before this if he were drowned in 
the river. But who has been talking to you ? 
It was wrong to frighten you so.” 

“Dr. Brown has just told me everything. I 
believed it — at first. But it can’t be, mmmna!” 

The last word was a wail of anguish. The 
mother understood it as perhaps no other would. 
She drew her daughter’s head down upon her 
breast, and soothed her as if she was yet a child. 

“ It is wrong to expect the worst, dearie, when 
the best may be true. The horse may have broken 
away. The hat may be somebody else’s, — it was 
a common crush hat. And the river is so shallow 
now, and they have dragged all the pools for half 
a mile above the bridge, and found nothing. The 
worst we fear is that he has got lost in the hills. 
That sometimes happens to the best woodsmen. 
The horse may have left the road, and he may have 
followed, hoping to catch it. That is what your 
father thinks. He has experienced men searching 
the woods now.” 

“ Mamma, Sam would not get lost. He knows 
every inch of country round Birchstock. Oh, can’t 
we go home, mamma } If he is — there^ mamma. 
I cant stay here ! ” 

“ Would it please you, dear } We will go to- 
morrow, then. But suppose he comes here to 
look for you } Suppose he writes ? ” 


208 


THIRD HAND HIGH 


He does not write. He would if he could, 
mamma, for he loved me with all his heart. And 
I — I loved him, mamma ; and — if he is dead, I 
want to die too.” 

Here she broke down and sobbed passionately. 
It was good for her. It betokened a hope under 
all her anguish and fear. She would never have 
cried else. 

“ So many strange things can happen in this 
world,” Mrs. Bain sighed. “ Perhaps this is God’s, 
way of teaching you to value your husband. He 
is a good, generous man, Sadie. Did you ever 
think how he might feel and act if he lost his 
money } He. might think you wouldn’t care for 
him then.” 

He knows I am his wife,” she answered with 
a touch of spirit. 

“ Dearie, men are very stupid sometimes. Es- 
pecially men much in love, like Sam. He thinks 
of your youth and his own age. He remembers 
how you used to scorn him when he was poor'' 

I didfUt! ” 

You. seemed to, dear. And no doubt he be- 
lieves you only married him for his money.” 

“ O mamma!” and with this more sobbins:. 

So, dearie, it may be — I only say 7}tayy mind 
— that he hasn’t written for fear he may lose his 
fortune. He might wish to wait and make cer- 
tain.” 


TROUBLE 


209 


** You mean he dares not write me ?” 

‘‘Love is said to make cowards of very brave 
men. It might of even Sam. Now cheer up and 
be brave yourself ; trust in God, and wait.” 

“ We must go to Birchstock, mamma.” 

“ I promised, didn’t I } ” 

“ The earliest train .?” 

“ If you wish. But you must see Helen to- 
night, then. We can’t leave the house qidte to 
the servants.” 

“ I’ll go to her at once ! ” she exclaimed with 
energy. 

“ And tell Alfred about it, so he can have the 
carriage round in time. I will see to the packing 
and breakfast.” 

Sadie hurried away. After she was gone Mrs. 
Bain took a letter from her bosom, and noted care- 
fully a passage near its close : — 

“ It seems strange that people who have known Hawkins, 
man and boy, so many years, can be led to believe him guilty 
of so criminal an act. But it is certain that many suspect 
him, and that his disappearance is regarded as a proof that 
the family eccentricity has broken out at last into sheer in- 
sanity. It is certainly hard to account for on any other hy- 
pothesis. If he is alive, God help us all ! ” 

“Thank God, Dr. Brown couldn’t put that into 
her head ! ” she muttered. “ Sam Hawkins is no 


210 


THIRD HAND HIGH 


more insane than I am. And I don’t believe he is 
dead, either. I am going to write to Mr. Bailey. 
He will know what to do.” 

Such confidence ! And she had seen Mr. Bailey 
only once. 


WANTED — MY HUSBAND 


2II 


CHAPTER XXVI 

WANTED — MY HUSBAND 

Both Sadie and her mother passed a most 
unrestful night. They had planned to remain 
together ; but along in the small hours Sadie 
insisted that she would be better in her own 
room, and Mrs. Bain could not persuade her other-, 
wise. Alone, she tossed and cried and dozed a 
little by snatches, until the morning began to 
peep under the curtains. Then, yielding to ex- 
haustion and habit, she dropped asleep. Mrs. 
Bain had visited her door tolerably often, listening 
until she heard a sob or a movement, and then 
going back to lie down. Hearing nothing, at last, 
she softly entered, and, finding that all was well, 
sought a place on the lounge, and in that position 
of guardianship over her darling, soon yielded in 
turn to slumber. 

She was the first to hear the gentle knocking 
of the maid Zena, who had been directed to have 
breakfast served at half-past seven. There was 
barely time to dress. Regretfully, with a caution 


212 


THIRD HAND HIGH 


not to mention her presence, Mrs. Bain departed, 
leaving the woman to arouse her young mistress. 

Sadie’s eyes opened at first drowsily. In a 
moment she remembered, and sprang up. 

“You are not late, Zena.^ We must not miss 
our train.” 

“ Time enough, ma’am,” the maid responded. 
“ It’s not seven yet, and everything was put in 
order last night, you know.” 

“Very well. Now, Zena, I expected to leave 
the house in auntie’s charge. But she is resolved 
to follow us to Birchstock to-morrow with Cousin 
Allie. There will be only Arthur — Mr. Cline — 
left, and I’m afraid the responsibility will be 
pretty much with you. Try and keep things in 
shape, in case Mr. Hawkins returns before we do. 
And if that happens ” — 

“ Yes, ma’am } ” inquiringly. 

“ I was going to say you must telegraph me. 
But Arthur would do that, of course.” 

“Or Mr. Hawkins himself, ma’am.” 

“Yes — certainly.” Sadie sighed, and colored 
up. 

Zena regarded her curiously. But she had 
divined that something was amiss in the family 
which she was not expected to pry into. So she 
ventured no further remark. She suspected that 
Mr. Hawkins’s absence, and the non-arrival of let- 


WANTED — MY HUSBAND 


213 


ters or telegrams for her mistress, meant a marital 
tiff. Such things were common enough among 
people who could afford the luxury. It did not 
cause her any anxiety. 

“ I suppose Dr. Brown will be leaving us too,” 
she remarked, as she drew the comb artistically 
through Sadie’s long hair, preparatory to the 
coiffure. ‘‘He’s very attentive at Mrs. Cline’s.” 

“ We should have no room for him at the par- 
sonage. But hurry, Zena ; I don’t feel like gossip 
this morning.” 

And thus reproved, Zena lapsed into silence. 
The toilet was made with very unusual rapidity. 
Quite within the allowed half-hour it was com- 
plete. And then Alfred’s knock announced break- 
fast. 

Mrs. Bain had packed up her own and her hus- 
band’s trunks. She felt that her summer outing 
was over, and that she was going home. Sadie 
took only a little portmanteau, with such things 
as she might need for a few days’ stay. Yet she 
thought, as they drove away in the handsome 
barouche, behind the milk-white horses, that this 
departure might be the last of wealth and great- 
ness. She almost wondered why she seemed to 
care so little. And why, when she was thinking 
of nothing in particular, her eyes wanted to be 
full of tears. 


214 


THIRt) HAND HIGH 


The journey had no incidents worth chronicling. 

They arrived at S about two p.m. Mrs. 

Bain had telegraphed ; but they hardly expected 
that it would be to any purpose, unless accident- 
ally Mr. Bain should have been in town. But this 
had been provided for. The message was for- 
warded duly, and her husband was at the station 
with their own team. As Sadie’s eyes fell upon 
Trixy they filled again, and she rushed to caress 
the pretty creature — Sam’s first gift. Trixy sub- 
mitted to the infliction, though it is quite possible 
she could not remember when and where she had 
seen this effusive person before. 

The trunks were booked by the stage ; and 
then, as it was Sadie’s urgent desire to get home, 
Mr. Bain had to abandon his own view, that they 
should make their headquarters at the village for 
the present. After the Profile House and the 
beach, to say nothing of what he had seen in Bos 
ton, the parsonage looked terribly squalid and 
mean. It was consoling to think that even if Sam 
lost his fortune they had enough to insure them a 
better home. 

To his great surprise, Sadie asked him no ques* 
tions. He held his peace for some time, but 
gradually, in disconnected remarks to his wife, 
related what had been done to find some trace of 
the missing man ; what a general sympathy Eben 


WANTED MY HUSBAND 


215 


received in his misfortune ; how Sommers was 
blamed, and at last, inadvertently, how suspicion 
had fallen upon Sam. 

Then, and not till then, Sadie opened her 
mouth. “ Do people dare to say my husband 
would seek such revenge as that } ” she asked 
indignantly. 

“ Hm ! Well, dear, not altogether for revenge 
perhaps ; but they think, partly at least, he had 
another motive. Eben is suing him for his for- 
tune, and can’t expect to gain a case at law with- 
out expense. The fire might cripple his means, 
if there was no insurance.” 

Sadie’s lips curled scornfully. 

Oh, they think he would risk the lives and 
property of three or four score innocent people, 
and the poor animals, for fear of what Maclean 
could do with a forged and silly old paper — how 
likely ! ” 

“ Well, as to that, the will seems to be thought 
genuine. Sam would have to show that it was 
not. And Mrs. Maclean, who has always been a 
very conscientious Christian woman, and I am 
sure does not approve her husband’s action in the 
matter, tells a very straight story about it.” 

“ You believe it, papa.?” 

That it is a genuine will of Ephraim Haw- 
kins .? I think that is very certain. Yes ! ” 


2i6 


THIRD HAND HIGH 


Sadie was silent, possibly from anger. Her mother 
asked the next question. 

“And it really conveys the property Sam had 
from his uncle ? ” 

“You must remember, my dear, Sam does not 
inherit it from his uncle, but — if at all — from 
his father. Everything was legally the old man’s 
for at least two months before he died. The only 
question is, was the old man competent to convey 
property at the time he made his will } That is, 
was he of sound mind ? Probably you have not 
heard that Maclean gains his first point. The 
will has been admitted to probate.” 

“That means, the judge allows it to be genuine 
and legal ? ” Mrs. Bain inquires. 

“Yes. There might have been a question 
about it ; but Mr. Bailey, Hawkins’s counsel, — it 
seems to me very odd, Sam being where he could 
not consult him, — wrote the lawyer on Mac- 
lean’s side, that they should offer no objections 
to probating the will.” ’ 

“What did he do that for.? ’’Sadie now asked 
sharply. “ If he is Sam’s lawyer he must be 7nme 
too, and I shall object ! ” 

“ Hm ! I believe,” Mr. Bain says, “ that matter 
is settled now.” 

“Mr. Bailey had good reasons, dear, you may 
be sure,” Mrs. Bain pleaded. “ He is a very 
sharp man, indeed ! ” 


WANTED — MY HUSBAND 


217 


“ Sharp ! I don’t doubt he is, like all lawyers ; 
and, indeed, most other men. He can see what is 
most likely to benefit his own pocket.” 

“ Of course, if the will is disputed, it can be 
set aside by the judgment of a court,” Mr. Bain 
continued. “ I assume that Bailey didn’t care, 
and didn’t think it necessary, to come on here to 
attend to the probate matter. He has too much 
other business. The whole thing will have to be 
gone into, anyway.” 

‘‘He ought to have fought it at every step ! ” 
insisted Sadie hotly. 

“ There were only two questions to be settled 
here,” her father explained. “ First, was the 
document, on the face of it, genuine, and properly 
attested ; second, was its admission to probate 
objected to by parties in interest, on the ground 
of its not being offered within the proper time. 
These are discretionary matters with the judge. 
Mr. Bailey simply waived the right of objection ” 

Sadie was silent again. But her lips and eyes 
looked fierce and determined for several minutes. 
Then the tears and the tremulous curves came 
back. What did it all matter, if she must bear 
the desolation of widowhood ? Oh, if her hus- 
band would only come back, they could be 
happy, very happy, even without riches ! Could 
it be that he was dead } A great shudder chilled 


2i8 


THIRD HAND HIGH 


her. She had never realized the horror oi death 
before. 

There was an eclipse even upon the familiar 
landscape as they neared home. Her soul yearned 
for familiar things, as if they must comfort her. 
But even the old, rickety house and barn failed 
to realize the hope. Like strange places, they 
were desolate — so desolate ! 

She had eaten but little breakfast. The 

luncheon at S was better appreciated, for 

she was nearing home. But now, quite at home, 
her appetite failed again. She would not eat ; 
she only wanted to be alone. Her mother’s plead- 
ing distressed her. To be alone, to think what 
she could do to-morrow toward the search her 
father assured her was still in progress — this 
was her whole desire. Finding her obdurate, her 
mother yielded. At any rate, it seemed better 
that she should be in her own little chamber 
again. A mother’s heart may have been selfish 
enough even to wish it might keep her hence- 
forward ; that no other and nearer one might 
come to carry her out into the world again. For 
Mrs. Bain had been very jealous of her daughter’s 
gay friends and multitudinous interests. Even, 
perhaps, a little of Sam, though she would never 
have confessed it. 

Next morning Sadie asked questions enough to 


WANTED MY HUSBAND 


219 


make up for her reticence of the day previous. 
She must know everything, to the minutest par- 
ticular. And finally, learning that Eben and his 
wife were at Sam’s old place, she put the saddle 
upon Trixy, and rode over to see M’rier. It was 
nothing that M’rier was to be counted Sam’s enemy 
and hers. She had been, so far as was known, the 
last to see him before his mysterious vanishing. 
She was familiar with all his ways. She might 
know or surmise something ; and, surely, she must 
pity and help if she could. 

Sadie did not care for the eyes that followed her 
as she rode past Aleck Maclean’s, any more than 
of yore. She had never liked those people ; and 
now that they were conspiring to steal her hus- 
band’s fortune they were as little as ever worthy 
of notice. Let them jabber and grin after her if 
they liked. 

But she was disappointed to find the house she 
sought closed, and to receive no response to her 
knocking. Eben and M’rier were both absent. 

After a little reflection she decided to ride on. 
It was better than moping out the long hours at 
home. The road rose and fell in abrupt fashion 
round and over the toes of the hills, that seemed 
like giants reclining with their feet to the river. 
Sometimes they actually touched it, and then 
there was a log-pen to hold up the carriage-way, 


220 


THIRD HAND HIGH 


with a mass of rocks, fern-clad, and an arch of 
trees rooted in hidden crevices on the other side, 
toppling over it. And, again, they were drawn 
back on a cushion of meadowland, mottled with 
patches of white and yellow blossoms. 

Eventually this last condition developed more 
than usual. And here a grassy roadway branched 
off, lined with stone fence, and, more or less, with 
birches, blackberry-bushes, and old apple-trees 
gone wild and rusty, loaded with wormy fruit and 
caterpillars’ webs. Merely as a freak, Trixy was 
turned into it. They would meet no travellers 
there. 

Sadie had an idea that it was only a convenience 
for wagoning out hay, or perhaps teaming logs 
in winter to the river. She had never followed it 
before to see. 

Well,*it did run to the river. But it ended upon 
a ruined stone abutment. And on the other bank 
she saw more ruins. Also the fragment of a pier, 
about half-way across. 

Trixy did not seem to be interested in ruins. 
She did not approach the jumping-off ” place, 
but, turning sharp to the left, followed a trail on 
the meadow a little distance, along the alders 
which fringed the water. Sadie was not particu- 
lar. She allowed the animal her own head, and 
waited developments. Ah! now she understood! 


WANTED MY HUSBAND 


221 


There was an opening, a gravelled incline into the 
water. Trixy wanted a drink. 

While Trixy was drinking, something caught 
the listless eye of her mistress, — something 
white sticking in a tuft of meadow grass. So 
when the creature had quenched her thirst, and 
came up out of the water, Sadie rode up to it, to 
make out what it might be. 

An old letter which some other traveller had cast 
aside. Certainly an envelope. After a moment’s 
scrutiny, noting that plenty of convenient rocks 
and logs lay about to assist her in mounting, she 
decided to get off, and see what it was. 

An envelope — yes. Addressed to Eben Mac- 
lean. And, inside, a letter signed Sommers^ 
bearing the bank letter-head. Why — this — it 
must be the very note Sommers had given her 
husband to carry to the Windermere ! 

She was too much excited to think. She hastily 
thrust it into her pocket, and, remounting her 
horse, rode home like the wind. All she could 
think of was — Sam had been here, on this very 
road, had lost it here by the river ! What, what, 
%vliat could it mean ? 

“ It means,” her father said solemnly, after a 
little consideration, “that Sam may have thrown 
it away before crossing the river by the old ford, 
which would save him about four miles of the way 


222 


THIRD HAND HIGH 


to Bristol. Why he should go there I don’t know. 
Why he turned his horse loose I don’t know. 
But if I were you, daughter, I think I wouldn’t 
say anything about it at present.” 

“ Why not ? ” she asked indignantly. Do j/ou 
suspect my husband of crime ? ” 

“No,” replied her father. 

“ And what then ? ” 

“ To-morrow we will go to Bristol and see. 
Until then, be advised. Keep this discovery 
quiet.” And he would explain no further. But 
the anxiety of his brow deepened. 

To Deacon Gleason, with whom he had communi- 
cation a few minutes later, he was more explicit. 

“ It proves that he was in no healthy state of 
mind, anyhow. No sensible man would take a 
horse across that old ford after dark. I am going 
to drive Sadie to Bristol, to get her out of the way. 
See that a thorough examination is made of the 
deep water just below the ledge at once. If he 
is found, send me word to the Valley House. I 
shall return that way. You think the hill roads 
are all right, you say .? ” 

“ Passable, passable. Elder ! if you don’t make 
no mistakes. Mighty rough, though. ’Tain’t had 
no work on it now for four year. But you kin 
drive through somehow to the turnpike, — ’tain’t 
morc’n six mile, — and then you’ll be all right.” 


THE. DOCTOR BEGINS A STORY 


223 


CHAPTER XXVII 

THE DOCTOR BEGINS A STORY 

‘‘ Tell me all about yourself !” Alicia said, as 
they strolled on the beach, under the happy stars. 
“Tell me what nobody else knows, not even my 
mother.” 

He laughed. 

“That might be difficult.” 

She sighed. “ Perhaps it would. You loved 
her once, as you love me.” 

“ No, dearest ; not as I love you. Such love 
could never have existed between us. She knew 
it, and told me so. She had the wisdom of a 
woman’s experience. She knew that people who 
can be friends can never be lovers. She knew 
that her power over the senses of men was purely 
physical — an extraordinary gift, possessed by few, 
and rarely serving any good end. You can hardly 
conceive how men of all ages, conditions, and 
.mental characteristics worshipped at her shrine. 
How many of them were ready to wallow in any 
depth of degradation, if so they might attain her 


224 


THIRD HAND HIGH 


favor ! And her best quality only added to the 
fascinations of her beauty. She did not care at 
all for admiration — at least after I knew her. It 
tired and annoyed her. But she must be amiable. 
She could not help sympathizing with her victims, 
hoping to console them, and to bring them to rea- 
son. It was usually a vain hope. Passion will 
have its object. My case was, however, a peculiar 
one. From early youth I had disciplined my 
passions. Had I pursued her as others did, she 
must have succumbed to me. That knowledge 
made me cautious. Besides, she trusted me as 
a brother. Has she ever spoken to you of my 
mother } ” 

“No; nor hardly of you. She did not tell me 
that you wished to marry her. I learned it 
by accident.’’ 

“You know that she left the stage, just as 
success came to her, to marry your father ? ” 

“ Yes so much.” 

“You know that your brother Arthur has a 
strong passion for it ? ” 

“I know he /md; but mother does not favor 
it.” 

“ That is from loyalty to your father’s wishes. 
He was always jealous of it, I think. Even in 
his case, the diablerie of Helen’s beauty held its 
sway over the senses, and he could hardly bear to 


THE DOCTOR BEGINS A STORY 


225 


have other men look at her. Though, at the same 
time, I think he loved her most truly.” 

“ I do not believe Arthur will ever disregard 
her wishes,” Alicia said, with evident avoidance 
of this part of the subject. “But it is hard on 
Arthur, if he can’t put his mind on anything else. 
He has tried college, the medical school, banking, 
and reporting. We shall get to the end of the 
list soon.” 

“That consideration has induced me to advise 
her. She has no right to allow a sentiment to 
suppress either her son’s talent, or her own.” 

“You mean ” — Alicia was evidently startled. 

“That she has decided to accept an engage- 
ment, after we are married, and she will take 
Arthur with her. 

“ But you have asked me to tell you all about 
myself,” he resumed, as her wonder kept her silent. 
“You wish particularly to know what even your 
mother has not been told. It is your right. Listen, 
then : ” — 

My mother was the daughter of one of those 
adventurous American freebooters who have occa- 
sionally crossed the Mexican border to affiliate 
with the remnant of a once great people — a peo- 
ple who succeeded in maintaining their liberty 
and ancient customs in mountain fastnesses for 
more than two centuries. With the Spaniard 


226 


THIRD HAND HIGH 


and the degraded tribes which usurped their em- 
pire, they did not mingle. But English-speaking 
people had long found them friendly. If they 
were bandits and smugglers, it was the necessary 
condition of their existence. 

But for some years before my mother’s birth 
the Mexican Government had been putting forth 
tremendous efforts to crush or annihilate them. 
It was becoming doubtful whether the position 
they had so long maintained could be held against 
a united republic and the improved methods of 
warfare which time had brought about. The 
tribe was seriously contemplating removal to that 
more northern country whence their most ancient 
ancestors had emanated. Within the limits of the 
great States they would be unmolested, and at 
peace. 

It was decided to send wise and trusted men 
to explore the country. My grandfather went 
with them as a guide. And because his wife was 
the last of her race, and a priestess of the sun, she 
also accompanied the party : - without her voice and 
counsel, nothing could be decided. Without her 
protecting wisdom, the direction of her inspired 
trances, the little party could not hope to escape 
the dangers of a strange land, infested by savage 
Apaches. And her daughter, now a. half-grown 
girl, she insisted upon taking with her. 


THE DOCTOR BEGINS A STORY 2 2/ 

According to their tradition, the party con- 
sisted of twelve persons. They were not only to 
find a new country, but, as a preliminary, a practi- 
cable mountain-route by which the tribe, cumbered 
with its women, children, and effects, could hope 
to escape from Mexico. It was certain that any 
attempt to do so openly, or over ordinary routes, 
would mean annihilation. The government would 
not permit them to go in peace. In the eye of 
Mexican law they were robbers and outlaws, with 
a price upon their heads. 

The expedition set out, and for many days pro- 
ceeded slowly, but with secrecy and success, to 
fulfil its mission. It made but one mistake. My 
grandfather was the person responsible for it. An 
Indian hunter was surprised and brought into the 
camp, with the idea of eliciting information. My 
grandmother condemned the act, and sternly com- 
manded that the man be instantly put to death. 
My grandfather would not consent, and, finding his 
protest unavailing, succeeded by stratagem in se- 
curing the man’s escape. For reasons of which 
she alone knew the value, my grandmother now 
changed the plan of the expedition. The further 
survey of the route north was abandoned, and a 
rapid dash was made for the frontier. It was 
safely reached, and the party stood upon American 
soil. But this movement averted only in part the 
consequences of the fatal error. 


228 


THIRD HAND HIGH 


For many weeks the party proceeded, under 
my grandmother’s inspired direction, if not with- 
out privation and danger,, at least with freedom 
from calamity. The desired country was found. 
It was inferior to the land they had so long pos- 
sessed in natural beauty and equableness of cli- 
mate ; it was superior to it in defensive strength 
and the fertility of a virgin soil. It also indicated 
mineral wealth, of which my grandmother foresaw 
the future importance. 

The approach of cold weather now hastened 
their return. But it was not forgotten that only 
half the purpose of the expedition had been ac- 
complished. To complete the work, it would now 
be necessary to seek a point of entrance into the 
States at the head-waters of the Rio Grande, and 
to trace out the route through the mountain coun- 
try southward. In order to avoid the desert plateaus 
lying between, evidently impracticable to the exodus 
of a people, the edge of the plains must be skirted, 
along the foot-hills thickly inhabited by Indian 
tribes. For there alone could the supply of that 
indispensable element, water, be depended upon. 

This part of the expedition was by far the 
most dangerous. And in its very incipiency an 
overwhelming calamity fell upon them. My grand- 
mother, in the midst of one of her sacred trances, 
fell into passionate lamentation, and declared that 


THE DOCTOR BEGINS A STORY 220 

the tribe had been surrounded and destroyed by 
the hated soldiery of the republic. 

The route which the presence of the party had 
disclosed to the captured Indian had opened a way 
to the enemy. There was no longer a place and a 
way needed for the remnant of the ancient race. 
It had been almost completely destroyed. 

Almost! Not one of the party with my grand- 
mother, unless, perhaps, the husband she had 
taken from an alien race, doubted it for an in- 
stant. If any were left except these, she could 
not tell. It was useless to take them into a hostile 
country. In the land they had discovered they 
might be, for the present, safe. They must return 
to it. If any others remained, they would surely 
seek safety across the border; and her quick in- 
tellect had already formed a plan for their recovery. 
Among all the Indian tribes the mystery of her 
“ medicine ” would secure her immunity and 
authority. 

My grandfather alone was not satisfied. He 
determined to have proof of the facts — if facts 
they were — which had so completely overwhelmed 
the counsels of the expedition. My grandmother’s 
pleading and warning had no influence over his 
resolve. He prepared for his solitary adventure, 
— she would not allow even one of her people to 
accompany him, — and when he departed, she sat 


230 


THIRD HAND HIGH 


in ashes, and covered her head for three days, as a 
widow. Her mourning was prophetic. He es- 
caped the savage Apaches, but he fell into the 
hands of the Mexican troops, and was shot to 
death. 

My grandmother survived him eight years ; and 
in the mountain fastnesses of Arizona my mother 
grew to womanhood, and was instructed in the 
strange lore of her race. But she never possessed 
her mother’s powers. No woman of the Aztecs 
escaped the massacre, — at least, none ever came 
to the remnant in the States. The men took them 
wives among the Apaches. The race became prac- 
tically extinct. 


THE DOCTOR CONTINUES HIS STORY 23 1 


CHAPTER XXVIII 

THE DOCTOR CONTINUES HIS STORY 

The tribe to which my grandmother had allied 
herself submitted to United States authority, and 
went upon a reservation. Perhaps this was best 
— even unavoidable. But the stern virtues which 
dignify and, to a great extent, redeem the vices of 
savage life, soon melted away in the atmosphere 
of the paternal system. To my mother alone the 
change was a revelation and a blessing. Her men- 
tal cultivation and the instincts of her white blood 
enabled her to appreciate the value of civilization, 
and to submit to its conditions. She attended the 
mission school, studied eagerly, and thought to fit 
herself for permanent removal from the life of the 
frontier. 

She attracted the attention of more than one 
white man who would have married her. Without 
being beautiful, she was attractive, possessed dig- 
nity and character, with true refinement of feeling. 
Marriage was with her a matter of course. And 
she classed herself not only with white people, but 


232 


THIRD HAND HIGH 


with the best class. She was intensely proud of 
her Aztec descent, and especially of her royal and 
sacred strain. 

But her experience of class in civilized life was 
very limited. My father was only a post-trader. 
He dressed well, and was received in such ‘ so- 
ciety ’ as the post afforded. That her heart went 
out to him with anything like passion is not to be 
presumed; but that she accepted his attentions 
with the highest purpose of wifely devotion, goes 
without saying. She hiew notJdng else. 

I have never learned the particulars of her court- 
ship. She was married to him by the mission 
preacher; and then she made him listen to the 
rites of marriage peculiar to her own race and 
religion. She never accepted the Christian faith. 

She was soon aware that her marriage, instead 
of settling her social position, had only barred her 
from the recognition which she might have counted 
on as a superior sort of Indian woman. The preju- 
dice against mixed marriage is nowhere stronger 
than on the frontier. Her husband had only re- 
ceived tolerance. He was respectable, so long as 
he demanded nothing more from society than ordi- 
nary civility. She was something more, — rather 
a curiosity, with indefinite future values. Such 
women have written books, lectured, and become 
the lionized missionaries of a Home Society. 


THE DOCTOR CONTINUES HIS STORY 333 

They have even married into positions of impreg- 
nable social eminence. But my mother had mar- 
ried a post-trader, — a man who had no real claim 
on society ; and the result was, had put both 
herself and her husband down in the common list 
of people who could not be considered quite white. 

She was not long in discovering her mistake. 
But if she was ambitious and proud, she was also 
loyal. Her sense of indignity covered her husband 
as perfectly as herself. She even credited him with 
nobleness when he confessed that he had foreseen 
this very result. These people were only snobs, 
he said. They could afford to be ignored at pres- 
ent. He was making money. When they had 
money enough they would live East, where these 
prejudices did not exist. 

When they had money efiough. That set her to 
thinking. Gold was money. She knew where 
there was gold. It would require a strong party 
— of white men — to go there and get it. But for 
her there was no insuperable difficulty. 

She suddenly disappeared, leaving a note ex- 
plaining her action to her husband. She was gone 
almost a year. When she returned, with two stal- 
wart Apaches bearing her bags of nuggets, she 
found another man in charge of the store, and 
learned that her husband had been removed, and 
gone East. 


234 


THIRD' HAND HIGH 


Unexpected as the news was, she did not de- 
spair, least of all did she suspect her husband of 
any lack of faithfulness. And she was far too 
shrewd to expose her wealth to those whom she 
regarded now as enemies. But the question was, 
how could she get away, get to the iron road which 
carried people to the East in great wagons, drawn 
by horses of fire ? For herself, it would be simple 
enough ; but she must carry her heavy, precious 
bags of gold, and something else, even more pre- 
cious, and quite as troublesome, if not so heavy, 
— her baby, whom she wished to bear her own 
brave father’s name. 

Of her companions, one was a chief, who had 
come in person to receive the goods she had prom- 
ised in exchange for the help and protection of 
his tribe. They had a party with horses a few 
hours’ march away, and the intent was to hire 
carriers from the station to take the articles to an 
appointed place, where they would be met by their 
own people. The arrangement had been made on 
the assurance of my mother that her husband was 
in authority at the post, and that she could com- 
mand the faithfulness of the Indians on the reser- 
vation. 

Now, she had no money, and she did not dare to 
offer gold for goods. The last item in her calcu- 
lation was the only dependence left. 


THE DOCTOR CONTINUES HIS STORY 235 

She had very little time to think. She had en- 
tered the fort alone, leaving her escort, with her 
treasures, concealed in the neighboring canon. 
Proceeding straight to the store, amid the cu- 
rious eyes of observers, many of whom recognized 
her, she had found it tenanted by strangers, and 
learned the facts from their lips. Dazed, at first, 
she reached the centre of the enclosure, and there 
stopped to reflect. 

In this position she was accosted by an old. 
man, a stranger. He differed materially from any 
person she had ever met, both in dress and man- 
ners. He wore, in fact, just such a costume as 
one would expect to meet .with in the streets 
of New York on a well-to-do professional man. 
Even the tall silk hat was not lacking. And 
when he addressed her, he raised it respectfully, 
exhibiting a very large bald bump, which is 
supposed to indicate benevolence. He had also 
a long silvery beard, and kindly eyes, which 
looked at her from under remarkably bushy 
brows. 

I must omit names, but in substance this is 
what occurred : — 

“Am I addressing Mrs. A 

“ I am Mrs. A — — .” 

“ And may I introduce myself as Professor 
B of the Smithsonian Institute.? I have 


236 THIRD HAND HIGH 

come a hundred miles or more out of my regular 
course in order to obtain an interview with you. 
I was greatly disappointed to learn that you had 
left the post, and surprised at the circumstances 
related. I happened to overhear your inquiries 
about the late storekeeper, your husband. Now, 
it may happen that we can do each other a service. 
I want to learn something about the remnant of 
the great Aztec race, of which I am told you are 
now almost the sole representative. And in re- 
turn, I can assure you that I am able to command 
for you any of the courtesies of the post which 
you may need.” 

My mother was not lacking in intuitional saga- 
city. This old man was of the East, and a great 
teacher in a great Eastern school. For the rest, 
he was a wise and good man. And he addressed 
her with respect, — respect for her people, and her 
rank among them. The gods were still her pro- 
tectors. She bowed in grateful acceptance of 
their succor. Then she raised her head. 

“ I am in need of a friend and adviser,” she 
said. “ But it must be one these people will not 
dare to rob or murder.” 

“ The Indians ^ ” he inquired in surprise. 

“The Indians are ignorant and stupid,” she 
said. “ I am not afraid of them. It is the white 
people whose lust and treachery I fear.” 


THE DOCTOR CONTINUES HIS STORY 23/ 

“But the soldiers — at least the officers of the 
post will protect you ? ” 

“I cannot trust them.” 

“ Why not They are gentlemen ; it is their 
duty.” 

“ Perhaps you speak wisely, but I do not know. 
If they were to will me evil, are you able to pro- 
tect me } ” 

“ I have no doubt of it.” 

“ Will you wait for me at the store a little 
while } ” 

“ For how long } ” 

“ For half an hour.” 

“ You will return ? ” 

She gazed at him steadily.” 

“ Would you care to go with me ? ” 

“Not if it would be an intrusion. You are not 
going far — outside the fort You see, the offi- 
cers here are responsible for my safety, and it 
would be wrong and discourteous for me to run 
any risks without their knowledge.” 

“ I will answer for your safety. And it is best. 
Come.” 

She led the way through the open gates, and 
toward the canon. As they approached the place 
where her party lay hidden, she stopped. 

“ I have brought an escort from the Indian 
country,” she explained, “ and a chief and two 


238 


THIRD HAND HIGH 


braves are close by, and will appear at my signal. 
We are in plain view of the sentries at the fort. 
You are not afraid ? ” 

“No,” he answered, smiling. “Let the ghost 
appear.” 

She placed her finger to her lips, and emitted a 
sharp, rattling sound, difficult to describe, and 
still more difficult to produce. It was instantly 
answered from the brow of the canon, and in a 
moment the three Indians appeared with their 
burdens. 

“ What is it that foremost fellow has ? Not a 
baby .? ” 

The professor’s voice did not indicate any seri- 
ous emotion. 

“ baby,” she replied proudly. 

She advanced to meet the chief, and relieved 
him of his burden. If the professor had known 
it, his observation had permitted him a sight not 
often to be met with in the Indian country, — a 
chief carrying a pappoose. It was the strongest 
possible evidence of his respect for the child, if 
not for the mother. 

At a few words, spoken by her in the Apache 
tongue, the bags were opened, and the astonished 
professor allowed to see and handle the dull yel- 
low nuggets. Was he aware how intently, in the 
meantime, his face was being watched ? Probably 


THE DOCTOR CONTINUES HIS STORY 239 

not. But my mother was satisfied. She had 
made no mistake in her man. 

Then she told him her difficulty. He listened, 
knitting his deep brows, and studying her face as 
a moment since she had studied his. He asked 
her some questions, also. But they were not 
about the location of the placer, or the ways by 
which it might be reached. He wanted to learn 
her motive in the course she had pursued for the 
past year, her feelings toward her husband, and 
some other unique and surprising things about 
her character. -And he, too, was satisfied. But 
it is needless to go into these details further. 
The Indians were sent away satisfied. The gold 
was safely transported to market ; and, when the 
professor left the fort, he had made no notes, be- 
cause he took with him the whole subject, in the 
most convenient form possible for examination. 


240 


THIRD HAND HIGH 


CHAPTER XXIX 

KING, QUEEN, AND ACE 

I HAVE told you now, my love, what your 
mother does not know.” 

“ It is a strange story,” she said, with a long 
breath. “ But you must not stop.’ I wish to 
learn what she did, how she found her husband, 
and what caused her to live away from him 
afterward. I know whom you mean for Professor 

A , and how your mother was my mother’s 

patron and friend, and how she met papa at your 
house.” 

“At my mother’s, you mean, I was studying 
in Europe in those days, and had not met her.” 

“ And I know,” pursued Alicia, “ that we did not 
inherit all our means from papa, but largely from 
the generosity of your mother.” 

“ Generosity is hardly the word,” he answered, 
smiling. “ Helen was my mother’s true friend 
and faithful nurse through the long, dark years 
after her accident.” 

“ Perhaps I ought to have said love, instead of 
generosity.” 


KING, QUEEN, AND ACE 


241 


“ That I accept. Love has the best right pos- 
sible to give and receive all things. It covers 
and includes all obligation. Even the law recog- 
nizes it as full and sufficient consideration for any 
gift or bequest. What was between your mother 
and mine is sacred, even from us.” 

‘‘ Then go on with the story.” 

“ I shall do it briefly at present. 

Nobody at the post could tell where my father 
had gone. He received his appointment in New 
York, and it was quite likely he had returned 
there. But after due search and advertising that 
hope was abandoned. The search was continued 
for something over a year, in all possible ways, 
without avail. Then a discharged soldier who 
had known him at the post met him in Denver, 

and wrote to Professor A . He had remarried^ 

and was living with another wife. That is all.” 

“ All ? ” 

I might mention that he had resumed his true 
name, which was not the one he had passed under 
at the fort, and hence the difficulty in tracing 
him.” 

‘‘She never saw him again ?” 

“ Never.” 

“And you ? ” 

“ Once. When my mother was dying, she sent 
me to bring him to her. He treated me as an 


242 


THIRD HAND HIGH 


impostor, and refused to obey her. Years after, 
when he knew what she had been, and that I was 
a rising man, he wrote to me. I did not reply. 
On his deathbed he sent for me. I declined to go.’* 

“ It is terrible ! ” she said. 

“ Lust, greed, and pride are always terrible.” 

“ What was your father’s name ? ” she inquired, 
after a moment, May I know ? ” 

“ Let us walk up nearer the light.” He had 
not seemed to notice her question, but to be lost 
in the emotions his tale had evoked. As they 
approached the hotel walk, the scene was illumi- 
nated with gaslight. Settees were provided here, 
and he sought one. When they were seated, he 
turned to her with a look, quiet, though grave. 

“You have known that I loved you a long 
time,” he affirmed. 

“I — sometimes — thought so,” she answered 
with hesitation. 

“ And that you loved me ? ” 

“ Yes.” 

“Did you never wonder why I did not speak ? ” 

“ Yes.” 

“There was a reason. I feared the difference 
in years was too great between us. That I could 
not make you happy.” 

“ And what reassured you } ” she asked, smiling 
a little. 


KING, QUEEN, AND ACE 243 

Sadie’s fainting-fit, when I told her Sam was 
drowned.” 

Alicia’s smile faded. Was that right ? It is 
very unlikely to be true — and cruel. We do not 
boast the Indian gifts of stoicism.” 

“ It seemed to me good. It is the discipline of 
the physician, not the rudeness of the Indian, 
which prevails over my tenderness in her case. 
It was necessary for me to know if she loved him.” 

Necessary, for your own selfish satisfaction } ” 
He shook his head, smiling. 

“ For even graver reasons. But I have a letter 
here for the mail. Will you note the address } ” 

‘‘ To Sam’s lawyer — Mr. Bailey.” 

“To the Trustees of the James Hawkms Estate. 
Now, as the contents concern you, will you kindly 
give your opinion of the matter inside, please } ” 
“It is rather bulky. Why, what is this An 
enclosure to Sam Hawkins ! At Saratoga } What 
on earth is he doing there } ” 

“ He went there to find Bailey, who is on his 
vacation, I suppose.” 

“ He is alive, then, and well } ” 

“ I believe so.” 

“And why doesn’t he write — to his wife ? ” 

“ I instructed Bailey not to let him.” 

“ You .? ” 

“ Read my note.” 


244 


THIRD HAND HIGH 


She opened the infolding sheet. As she read, 
curiosity gave place to some deeper emotion. At 
last she uttered an exclamation of amazement, and 
looked into his face, bewildered. 

*‘You see,” he said calmly, “it all rests with 
you. If I send that, Sam gets the million. I pre- 
fer he should have it, and I can support my wife 
very well without it. I prefer my mother’s name 
to that of my father, toward whom I feel neither 
reverence nor gratitude. But it shall be as you 
wish. Will you be Mrs. Dr. Brown, or” — 

“ My mother knows this ? ” she asked, with 
bated breath. 

“Yes. She has known it for twenty years.” 

“ And you can afford ” — 

“ I can afford to scorn James Hawkins’s money.” 

She pondered a moment. Then she raised her 
beautiful eyes to his with a proud confidence and 
approval. 

“ You will send it, of course,” she said. 

“ And we will keep our secret. Only Sam, who 
is our relative, need know it. Maclean will learn 
his error duly, but he need not know me!' 

“ You knew all the time — and let them worry 
so ! ” she exclaimed, with womanly distaste. “ How 
could you } ” 

“ I was testing the marriage-theory I told you 
of. The Maclean episode was of course unfore- 


KING, QUEEN, AND ACE 


245 


seen, but it promised a very dramatic climax to 
my little plot, and I couldn’t resist the temptation 
to utilize it. Professional heartlessness, I suppose. 
But Sadie will survive it, and Sam will find he has 
his wife’s love, which he will prefer even to the 
million. All’s well that ends well.” 


246 


THIRD HAND HIGH 


CHAPTER XXX 

MR. BAILEY REVOKES 

The Valley Hotel at S was the scene of a 

very interesting family party some two days later. 
First arrived Mr. Bain and Sadie from Bristol, 
where investigation had developed several items 
of information. Sam was not, so far as they 
could learn, known there personally. But a gen- 
tleman answering to his description had bought 
a crush hat at Taylor’s, and breakfasted at the 
hotel, leaving for Concord by the eight a.m. train, 
on the morning after Sam’s disappearance. There 
was no reasonable doubt in the matter, because 
the gentleman had spoken of a tramp over the 
hills, and of losing his horse at a ford. 

One thing was perfectly clear, — if Sam left 
Bristol at eight a.m., he could not have been at or 
near the Windermere House at three a.m., the time 
when the fire occurred. 

But where had he gone } Why had he failed 
to communicate .? These questions more than 
ever distressed Sadie. Could it be, as her mother 


MR. BAILEY REVOKES 


247 


had hinted, that he did not dare to tell her he was 
in danger of losing his estate } She was indig- 
nant, but still too anxious to quite enjoy her 
wrath. Perhaps, if that was all, she could for- 
give him. 

An hour after their arrival the north-bound 
train pulled in. And then appeared Dr. Brown, 
with Mrs. Cline and Alicia. But about the same 
time a telegraph messenger inquired at the office 
for the doctor. He scanned the message, and 
then handed it to Alicia with a smile. 

When she in turn had read it, she looked plead- 
ingly into his face. He nodded. She went to 
Sadie, and, kissing her upon the forehead, dropped 
it into her lap. 

This is what Sadie read : — 

Sebastian Brown, M.D., 

Valley House, S , N.H. 

Arrive with Hawkins, 2.30 train. Have informed him 
of facts. 

H. S. Bailey. 

“ O mamma ! ” she gasped, “ he is with Mr. 
Bailey ! He is alive and well !” 

“ Sam ” her mother inquires — as if it could 
be anybody else ! 

“ Where has he been } ” Sadie asks of the 
doctor, who is calmly observing her as he would 


248 


THIRD HAND HIGH 


a case of vivisection. “ Why has he not written 
me ? ” 

“Saratoga, I believe,” that gentleman responds. 
“Probably he was too busy to recollect you. I 
believe you didn’t write to /iim the last time he 
was away ? ” 

She was quick .enough to see he was teasing 
her, but she was too much afraid of him to resent 
it. Sam, however, would have to give a better 
excuse. 

How slowly the time dragged until 2.30 p.m ! 
But it passed, as time will if you wait ; and at last 
the in-whistle was heard. Sadie forgot all her 
dignity, and was first on the platform, watching 
every male creature that alighted, with feverish 
interest. At last she uttered a little scream of 
happiness, and pushed through the throng directly 
into the stalwart arms of her husband. 

Sam was manifestly astonished, but to add that 
he was pleased is supererogatory. 

“And where have you been.? And why didn’t 
you write to me ? ’’ she asks at once, before he has 
half kissed her — and before all these people ! 

“Write.? Why, I write!” he answers at 
once. “ What do you mean .? ” 

“ I haven’t heard one word since you left us ! 
We have been dragging the river, and searching 
the woods, and I thought I should go mad!” 


MR. BAILEY REVOKES 


249 


with all the indignant fury of her overwnelming 
self-pity. What does it mean i* ” 

“Here are the letters — four of them, Mrs. 
Hawkins,” says the grave voice of Dr. Sebastian, 
at her elbow. “ Their miscarriage will be ex- 
plained later. It was my fault, not Sam’s!” 
“Your fault I ” she exclaims. 

He s all right, Sadie ! ” Sam avers with instant 
confidence. “ We can afford to forgive him, even 
for stealing our mail. Never mind I ” 

“ MindV she repeats, completely dazed. “Are 
you crazy } or am I } What right ” — 

“ Right as a trivet, I tell you I ” Sam insists, 
with a dominance quite new in his domestic ad- 
ministration. “Just hold your horses till you 
know ! ” 

Sadie was silent from sheer wonder. 

Dr. Brown had secured the ladies’ parlor for 
what promised to be an interesting family confer- 
ence. The party was soon gathered there ; Mr. 
Bain, Sadie, and Sam occupying the sofa on one 
side, while Mrs. 6ain in some way got mixed up 
with the other side, and sat between Helen and 
Alicia, with the fat lawyer flanking the group. 
The doctor stood by the table, drawing mathemati- 
cal curves upon a very perceptible layer of dust 
which obscured its polish. He eventually lifted 
his head. 


250 


THIRD HAND HIGH 


“ I have to confess to conspiracy, if not to 
arson and murder,” he said in his quiet way. In 
the first place, I am not what I seem. But that is 
a trifle. I confess to having deliberately, and with 
malice aforethought, deceived two trusting maids, 
two or three respectable matrons, a minister, a 
few lawyers, and Heaven knows how many other 
good and bad people, in order to arrive at informa- 
tion of a scientific character, of no value except 
to myself. I have committed forgery ; I have 
tampered with the mails, and I have conspired 
to defraud. But I have satisfied my thirst for 
evil, and I expect to forgive all who have tempted 
me, and to be duly forgiven. I shall, probably, in 
future refrain from all such evil practices, and 
remain a good citizen. Mr. Hawkins, you are 
aware that I had your letters to your wife inter- 
cepted } ” 

“ Looks like it,” says Sam. 

“And allowed her to fancy you might be at the 
mercy of the salmon she used to catch, in defiance 
of the law ? ” 

“ Y-yes,” he answers, more doubtfully. 

“And caused you to commit an assault upon 
Eben Maclean, so that he was unable to exercise 
proper care over his hotel, and by reason of which 
disability he probably lost it ? ” 

Sam only grunted thoughtfully. 


MR. BAILEY REVOKES 


251 


And allowed you to think you were a million- 
aire, when you had no claim whatever to the 
dollars you were lavishing upon an ungrateful 
young woman and her relatives 

Sam reddened, and was quite silent. 

“ I spare you further details of my crimes. Mr. 
Bailey wishes to make a statement. I yield the 
floor to Mr. Bailey.” He sat down. 

“ My eccentric client,” Mr. Bailey began, with a 
distinct chuckle, “has chosen to prejudice his case 
by making remarks without advice of counsel. I 
expect the jury to take into consideration his youth, 
inexperience, and his profession, which naturally 
incapacitates him fo'' dealing with matters of fact 
or logic. 

“What I have to say is, in brief, just this: 
James Hawkins married a lady possessed of both 
personal charms and genius. They separated 
within three years, the wife having custody of the 
issue, — a son. 

“ Hawkins did not die intestate. He made a 
very safe and simple will. By its terms, the firm 
of Smiles & Bailey received his whole estate, at 
the time of his death, in trust for a term of two 
years. If, during that term, his son, who had 
always borne the name ” — 

“ Never mind the name, Bailey,” interrupted the 
doctor. 


252 


THIRD HAND HIGH 


“ His son, who had achieved reputation and con- 
siderable wealth, consented to drop his mother’s 
name, which he had always borne, and take the 
name of Hawkins, he was to receive the entire 
property. If this condition was not complied 
with, his nephew, Samuel Hawkins, became the 
heir. The income, in the meantime, after paying 
certain small legacies and expenses of manage- 
ment, was absolutely at the son’s disposal. 

“ You will perceive, therefore, that the property 
is still in the hands of Smiles & Bailey, who will 
be very able to protect it. At the son’s order, the 
income has been set over to the account of the 
nephew. And I assume that at the expiration of 
the trust the entire estate will pass to him also, 
the son having already formally notified us that 
his decision is unalterable not to comply with the 
condition under which he could inherit. 

“ Merely to oblige the son, who is averse to 
being known as such, we consented to withhold 
from Samuel Hawkins information which was his 
right, and allow him to suppose he inherited as 
next of kin, until such time as his own act, or the 
expiration of our trust, might compel us to reveal 
the truth. As a consideration, the said Hawkins 
might receive the entire income available, amount- 
ing to about one hundred and twelve thousand 
dollars. For this irregularity we might be cen- 


MR. BAILEY REVOKES 253 

sured, but appeal with some confidence to the 
clemency of the court.’' 

• Mr. Bailey paused a moment. Then he raised 
his face with a smile. 

Of course this action of Maclean’s precipitated 
the disclosure. We could not permit professional 
brethren to proceed with a case under a misap- 
prehension, arising from our own irregularity. I 
shall proceed at once to inform Maclean’s lawyers 
of the facts.” 

Are yot^ Sam’s own cousin.?” Sadie exclaims 
eagerly to the doctor. 

“ That, madam, must remain a secret. Sam has 
promised not to tell, and so has everybody else 
who knows. I trust that you will never allow a 
feminine curiosity to tempt the honor of persons 
who have received a sacred confidence. Mr. 
Bailey, one moment. I wish to ask, Mr. Bain, if 
you are prepared to perform a ceremony of mar- 
riage .? ” 

Always — certainly,” answered the minister 
with surprise. 

“ In order to prove to all interested that my 
name is Brown, and will always remain Brown, I 
have decided to fortify it by an immediate election 
of Mrs. Brown. Here is the license. Alicia, do 
you object .? ” 

He held out his hands to her. She did not 


254 


THIRD HAND HIGH 


hesitate a moment, but rose, and placed hers 
quietly in them. 

“For better and for worse,” he 'said solemnly, 
his eyes shining upon her with all the radiance of 
true love. 

“ For better or for worse,” she repeated. 

And it was a small matter what was done or 
said after. That vow made them one. 

However, Mr. Bain, seeing that nobody objected, 
did his duty. 


LOCALS. ' 

Clipped front the Valley Recorder of Sept. 3, 18 — . 

. . . We learn that Gunby & Hicks have secured the 

contract for the rebuilding of the Windermere, on greatly 
improved plans. It is intended to have the house ready for 
business next season. In spite of his great loss, Landlord 
Maclean is cheerful as ever, and says he will be able to com- 
plete and furnish the house without debt. Good for Eben ! 

. . . Rev. Dexter Bain preached his farewell sermon 

to the congregation at Birchstock last Sunday. He assumes 
the pastorate of the Union Church at this place in October. 
We extend our cordial welcome to the reverend gentleman, 
and trust that his new and enlarged field of usefulness may 
be greatly blessed under his able endeavors. 

. . . Deacon Gleason of Birchstock was in town yes- 

terday. He came down to ship Mrs. Sam Hawkins’s pet 
horse, “ Trixy,”tothe beach, where our distinguished towns- 
man and family are summering. “ Trixy ” had a special car, 
of course. 


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